When my daughter was on a life support machine in intensive care I used to visit her every day - sometimes even in the middle of the night. Arriving for a 3am visit after she'd been unconscious for two months, the nurse on duty said: You always wear bright lipstick when you arrive - though you know she can't see you. Why is that?' 'Because,' I replied, 'if she wakes up, I want her to see me how she knows me best. Happy and positive. Not with a pale face and fear in my eyes.' Fourteen years later I am now writing a short story called The Red Lipstick. How lucky am I that she is alive to read it?
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