I found this photograph. There’s one thing I truly hate about it. It’s not the woman in the cloak but the cloak itself. That long black cloak that brings back so many horrible memories. It’s one of the things I remember from the day mama died. That black cloak, the rain, the mud and my mother dying in my arms. I hate mud. I hate the sound it makes as it sloshes through my shoes. I hate the smell.
I hate that black cloak. I love the woman wearing the black cloak. The universe has been laughing at me for years.