I read the name on my list with some surprise. This person is somewhat well-known.
I cannot recall reading that they were ill but of course they are.
Going to the home I park on the street below and walk up the hill onto the property.
There are alot of gorgeous people buzzing about. Family and friends.
In I go to see a younger woman sitting smoking.
I am somewhat surprised as oxygen is in use in the home.
Noone seems to be attending to anything other than themselves.
I walk my mind through the notes and in the background this blonde is telling me some long story about a meal that did not go well. When I do not respond in the way she is hoping for she smacks my arm for emphasis. I just look at her.
What is she really thinking I wonder.
I go looking for my client who is in bed behind double doors.
Everywhere you turn there is opulance.
Even the bed is garbed in expensive linens.
Even now the client will not use the *good towels*.
I suppose they are being saved for something. Someone. Not her, not today.
As soon as my client's eyes opened the gasping began.
It is a dread of running out of air that seizes the imagination.
Puffers of all colours sit on the bedtray.
My client has everything money can buy. And more.
Currently, it means nothing.
I leave and the blonde calls out: "That's it?"
Goodbye I say.
The client is more relaxed now but the air holds bitterness.
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