The nightlight glows dully from behind the heavy metal lines of the bed, casting strange shadows that perch menacingly on the walls. The soft, downy hair on my wife's arms is the only comforting thing in the room. 🍓 Запрещённое в соцсетях искусство — t.me/kartiny/6166 Our son thinks she is getting better. That she's going to roll over one day soon and leap out of bed, casting off her wasted body. In his three-year-old fancy, anything can become something else and something beyond repair can always be fixed.…