From the Journals of Lisa.
The room is dark. It has a musty smell to it. No windows are open, no air can get in and there is just a flicker of light coming through the lace on the closed curtains. The bed is piled with duvets and blankets and pillows and in the middle of it is an old lady. She sits there just staring into space with the tears rolling down her cheek. There is a small damp circle on the cover that she clings to. Her face is sallow, with sunken eyes and you can see right through to her soul. The life that was once there has left her now and she is in the depths of despair. Her hair is patchy and unkempt, and she wears an old worn out shirt. Her hands are clasped tightly together holding on to the one precious thing she has left. A gold heart locket.
Until next time people, look after each other. One of us wont be here tomorrow. God bless x