
She lay in the hospital bed, a little thing in a sea of white, golden hair bedazzling her plain pillow, and I could see the concern in her eyes; it was not surprising as this was her first time in hospital.
She turned to me, “Daddy, will I make Timmy better?”
I smiled, “Yes, love, your bone marrow will make Timmy much, much better.”
She returned a brave little smile and continued, “I'm glad …”
I could sense she had something on her mind so I asked, “What is it, love?”
“Will it hurt … I mean … when I die?”
(Fictional
Six Sentence)