I´ve seen it all

She lays in her bed, closed curtains and the smell of sickness around, empty glasses, pills, medicine jars, her room has become the escenario of her disease.
She reaches over and grabs a book, reads a couple of lines but can´t concentrate. She opens her diary and writes a couple of lines but closes it impatiently without being able to find words.
Words, words that used to come to her so easily and now elude her. A ray of light filters trough one or the curtains and she follows its trace, longs for the warmth of that little piece of sun.
Milla enters the room and goes straight to the warm spot of the room. She sits there, light playing over her rich coat of snow and dots, staring with her hazel big eyes to the woman in the bed, wondering when she´ll get up to play with her.