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“Slowly, fearfully, I crept into the kitchen. The gas-smell burned my nostrils. It hadn't been on long enough to fill the room and spill out to the rest of the house. But its intent was clear: my mother was sitting on a chrome dinette chair, legs crossed at the ankles, her arms dropped down her sides toward the floor, as if in submission to her impending death. (The Women in Me: How They Helped Me Survive and Thrive, p. 13)” — Jackie O'Donnell
Slowly, fearfully, I crept into the kitchen. The gas-smell burned my nostrils. It hadn't been on long enough to fill the room and spill out to the rest of the house. But its intent was clear: my mother was sitting on a chrome dinette chair, legs crossed at the ankles, her arms dropped down her sides toward the floor, as if in submission to her impending death. (The Women in Me: How They Helped Me Survive and Thrive, p. 13)