Its her 50th birthday today, my mother’s. But there’s no party.
She was turning 34 when she last celebrated her birthday. It was a happy one. Her daughter was to be born a few weeks later.
“Everything will be so different next year!”, she whispered to the camera in her husband’s hand.
If only she knew just how different it would be.
There is no cake. No candles anymore. Everything was different the next year, because the devil took her breath away.