Marie-Joseph's cane clip-clopped on the stone plaza. She pulled her shopping cart.
She was on the way to the fish monger's and hoped he had a good selection of crevettes, her daughter's favorite. Even better if they were already cooked. She could buy some aoili, some salad and present a good workless lunch.
She didn't want Anna to think she was slipping. She'd seen the assisted-living brochure Anna had left on her last visit.
Marie-Joseph didn't want to leave her home, her parents's home and her grandparents's home. The family history was written in the walls, the fire place used to cook before a stove had been bought in the early 20th century.
She had watched the news on France2 so she would have something modern to say.
She was careful which stones to put her cane down where she wouldn't slip -- the blue and pink flowered cane proving she still cared about her appearance.
No! No assisted living for her or her cane.
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