It's Not Too Late
Touching my waist gently, he asked, "Does it hurt, Miss?"
Tears welled up in my eyes; no one had ever asked me if I was in pain, but this young man did.
Six months later, I held the medical report the doctor had given me.
My cancer cells were gradually weakening. As long as I maintained a positive mood, took my medication on time, and avoided depression at night, anything was possible.
There were cases of people recovering from cancer.
But not everyone could make it happen.
Fortunately, I did it.
"Jennifer, where are you? Why aren't you at the booth today?" My phone beeped, and it was a message from Charles.