From the window, she could see the rain pelting down. She was an artist, a songwriter, a grandmother, a brave woman. She was so many things- but in that moment as she followed her gaze along the tracks in mud left by the pouring rain, she felt suspended between the realms of life and death. She checked the wall clock out of habit, the minute hand not having shifted an inch since she last checked. Within an hour, she would know for sure the results of her PET scan report. In the upcoming sixty minutes of her life, she would know at last if she was cancer-free. The time gap was analogous to a journey of miles and all she had was a bullock-cart. One would expect the mind to crumple down with anxiety under similar conditions but she was known to be an exceptionally calm woman. Her approach towards an organized life had her so prepared, that her retirement life was sorted by her twenties. Having lost her parents at the tender age of eight, death was no stranger to her. Her only concern...
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