Tiffany stood up and took the sheet of paper. "Bless you, child," she said, then turned to leave. She just called her own mother "child" and didn't even blink. Whatever was happening to her was obviously getting worse. She worried that soon she might not even remember that this woman was her mother or that she lived in this house. She did live in this house, right?
She looked at the directions. She was due at an interfaith Christian charity meeting. It was being hosted by a family named Ferguson. She had better hurry. She hated tardiness. She let the woman escort her out and started walking, then turned around at the end of the block, pausing for a moment, realizing she had no idea which house she had just been in...she couldn't remember which one was home.
She continued on her way to her destination, not seeing anything else to do. Before long, she'd arrived at the address. She rang the doorbell and looked around. She smelled the sweet smell of fresh baked cookies drifting out of the house next door, a small house with white siding. She could see through an open window someone in a flowered dress, with their back to her.
