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March 31, 2015
I opened the trunk and sifted through the bags of groceries, making one bag for her items: milk, toothpaste, candy, cereal. Inside, an older woman with a walker disappeared into the dining room, where I assumed my mom would be too. Dinner was just getting started, and she was dressed nicely, wearing the earrings she often wears even in her pajamas. I offered her a cheek and retrieved her keys. Her apartment smelled clean, and the bonnie was grinning, still beaming over her haircut. I just mixed her some dog food, filled my mom's pills and made a quiet exit.