Mary Margaret searched the darkening sky to find a star. A poetry fragment fluttered in her mind, a line about cutting a face into stars, but she could not quite place it. Something about death, something sad. Venus sparkled through the haze of western clouds, but planets did not count. Finally, over the crown of a large oak, a faint point of light punctured the blue. “First star, Nann!”
“Here, sit back up a bit so you can drink your tea.” Nann pushed the button and Mary Margaret’s recliner whirred. “I promised Andy I’d keep you warm.”
365/radical elements 
I don’t want to know what’s in the tea.
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This story is bringing up memories of one of my first jobs as a research assistant. The study involved people with multiple sclerosis, I remember the time I interviewed a mother and her two daughters, one of whom had been diagnosed with MS and was only in her 20s. She was already in a wheelchair, and all three of them were crying when I first met them. The other person I really remember was someone in his 40s, who a few years later committed suicide.
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