‘Classic case’, I think. The woman is in her fifties; grey bob, smart specs, silk blouse.
It’s the eyes that give her away: glazed, frightened, like a bird in a box.
“Forgetfulness?” She nods. “Panic? Brain fog?” Tick, tick.
I chew the end of my pen; she copies. I’ve been doing this long enough to know the signs. Dementia: a beast that burrows from the inside out.
I scrawl a referral on clinic letterhead. When I look up, she is staring back.
I’m handing her the letter when the door swings open.
“Mum?” Says a girl.
I turn from the mirror.
#FLASHFICTION101 February 2021 SHORTLISTED ENTRY
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