Dear Gloria.

The room is covered with dust now, dust composed of all of the hair what degraded away dust composed of all the pills you took to make you feel okay dust...dust made of your will that was revoked, and forcefully taken away from you. You always smelled like Honduras you know? tropical and sweet like coconut water, yet musky like plants you ever so religiously planted in our back yard. you were are a hell of a woman. and we'll never forget that, I'll never get to old to forget your scent and I'll never dust your room that is always your room for ever locked away in my memory