She sits in a sterile environment, remembering; at least I hope she can. We can't reach her anymore, she probably won't even know we've come. Her affliction, defying physics and medical science, began in her early twenties. Two decades have since passed, yet no remedy can be found.

Mama weeps as Papa curses her fate. Bubba and Sissy barely remember when our beautiful sister used to play the piano and favor us with her magical voice. Wilford, her old beau, still hoping for a miracle, showed for the occasion.

Dr. Wills guides us into the viewing area and we all press towards thick glass, shielding her from contamination. Removing spectacles, he clears his throat. "I'm afraid it's not going to halt, this is most likely the last time you'll be able to see her."

Fierce sorrow engulfs me as I look at the tiny girl who once stood five-seven. Her luxurious yellow hair is now a mere spot, smaller than a match head, and two pin dots of blue appear to stare absently into space.

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