McGrath Institute Blog

Winifred was faded: a ghost of a woman you vaguely hoped, rather than knew, had once existed in full color. She shuffled into church every Sunday about half an hour late, careful to inform bystanders of the reason, sure that they had been anxious for her. Her pale blue eyes were vacant, almost devoid of all color now, faded like the wisps of grey hair under the knit cap she perpetually wore.