"Do I have to mum?"

"Yes, John, you have to. She is your sister..."

"But she just lies there. She doesn't move, she can't talk, she might as well be dead."

"John, watch your mouth!" Martha could hear the anguish in Bob's voice. She looked over and watched the shadow pass across his face. The strain was increasing day by day.

"We should face it Bob, we can make the decision."

She had finally done it. With John's inadvertent outburst, she had broached the subject.

Bob was well aware of what the doctor had said. She had told him herself just last week. all the hospital needed was their permission. A signature on a consent form and the machines would be turned off.

It was too final for Bob to contemplate. His memories of his darling little girl, of how she used to be, clouded his judgement. All the hopes for his child reaching womanhood lay broken like the body on the bed that was once his daughter.

A casualty in a war that no one understood. Martha lacked the strength to pursue it.

"Unplug Norma? You want her to die? Why didn't anyone ask me?" John was suddenly hurt now his suggestion was being taken seriously.

"We are asking you, John." He was making them all confront it, finally.

Bob stared out the window. Through his tears, he watched the rain falling from the leaden sky, taking with it as it fell, one by one, the golden leaves from the maple tree in the back yard. He watched them land on the soft moist grass, staring at the kaleidoscope of colours forming through his tears. the tire that he had hung from the tree was swinging in the breeze.

It had not been used for years.

"I must take it down some day."

"What?" asked Martha.

"I don't know," Bob replied, " I really don't know."