Dainty was not a word associated with Martha. In her life time she’d been everything from clumsy, frumpy, outlandish, crude, rude, eccentric, spontaneous, vulgar, quirky and charismatic. Her charms to men only matched by her enthusiasm to out smart them.
Her feminine curves now faded below her dress line as her body shrunk away from its former glory. Grey, pale and knees failing she faced the nurse commenting on her “dainty” hands. “Do you crochet?”
With sharp tong she re-birthed her former youth.
“No that’s my signalling hand.” She twisted her wrist and held it up extending only one finger.