She could find the wrong way to anywhere on her best day.
And worse, everything was jumbled in her head. Her sentences got stuck, two or three words strung together, punctuated with confused pauses. Her thoughts lurched around drunkenly and slurred into meaningless babble.
Her children, whose names and faces she mismatched when she was still plausibly lucid, seemed only vaguely familiar to her now.
She sometimes knew where she needed to be, but the day of the week, the time of day and the way there was a total fog. Everything around her seemed to be happening out of sequence and without reason.
She could be found many mornings standing naked next to the shower because she knew something, something, something was meant to happen next and if she waited long enough, it would occur.
She dirtied herself often and buried her soiled underwear among her other crumpled belongings…
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