She kept twirling incessantly in the opposite direction of Earth’s rotation.
She couldn’t stop. Exhausted, she breathed in the sour hospital smells.
Stopping meant giving in to the direction and pace of Earth’s rotational pull.
She wouldn’t give in. Light-headed, she struggled to maintain her balance.
Giving in, meant surrendering to life’s scripted path.
Following that path, meant facing the diagnosis. Nauseous, she battled the rising bile.
Facing the diagnosis, meant facing death.
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