Agnes sits in her chair, a crocheted blanket over her lap. The chair is thoughtfully angled so she has a good view of the television. It's nice for her to get out of her room they say, to have the company of others in the day room. The sound is rather loud and the programmes flick past, each as bright and glossy as the last. The carer leaves the remote control on the table beside her, though it is on her left side, and that hand no longer moves very far. Mr Llewelyn dozes in the chair next to her, grunting occasionally but not waking until the tea trolley comes round at four. His daughter pops in on her way home from work. She turns the tv down and chats to him about his granddaughter's school sports day triumph. Agnes eyes the remote, it is nearer now, she can just about reach it. Her hand is clumsy and nearly knocks it from the table but she wills the tremors to be calm. Eventually her finger finds the red button and the screen goes black.
(Word for my flash fiction A to Z supplied today by Tish.)