“My charge's wife swept in, set some clean towels on the love seat, went rushing back out again. The stacked towels toppled off the love seat. All but one. The fallen towels landed in a heap of plastic detritus from his various medications, near a set of fresh, folded pajamas, which he now would never wear, and a stack of books he now would never read. Everything in the room was touched with the chaos that disrupted the operating energy of a household at such a time and showed that, all along, the appearance of control had been an illusion.”
Book:Vigil
