The Sunday Whirl

Rebecca sighed, the fear starting again, it would not be long before her sight would be vanishing altogether and she would be blind. She tapped on the back of the device, thinking it might need a flash of movement to show a strong visible image. It worked and at the top was a clear description of the vine. Rebecca had started gardening after a trip to a botanic garden, where the sensory input from scents, touching the buds and leaves, even the barks of trees gave her a certain satisfaction. She could not help yearning for a cure, but there were none close enough to deter the inevitable. For now she would enter as much information possible to store in memory of the things that mattered most.

Wordle 669