The Poker Game

descriptive essay Mr. Quade Accelerated third-year Language Arts one-eighth period October 7, 2001 The Poker naughty         I was eleven in the summer of 1986. My family and I were consumption our usual Sunday resound with nan and Grandpa. Grandma was ill. Because I was one of the venerableer grandchildren, I was allowed to go into her room for a while. When entering the room, I had to twist and gather myself to spawnher. I entered the room. It was regard well a bitter inferno. I had to remove my jacket. I glance at the perimeter of the room. In the corner abutting the closet laid an old, worn hanger. The physical was discolored, and ripped. The decorations had spacious faded. The surface was disfigured and began to rust. I picked it up and hung my unfledged and white parka on it. I gingerly fixed it in the cedar closet.         My attention shifted towards the bed. Could this really be my Grandma? The room smelled of coffee, remnants from the familys long night. It was so strong I could to the highest degree taste the burnt, hardy, warm, liquidity in my mouth. Her hair, flat and lifeless, was wicked against her sear head. Her eyes were sink into her fleshless cranium. They were dark and murky care a foul and glum lagoon.

Grandmas tiny frail eubstance went just about ignored in the large bed. A mere skeleton of a hand reached toward me and patted the seemingly immortal cot. When I went to her, she allowed me to set on the edge of the mattress. I took her weak, dry, and toffy hand, which was as dim as a feather compared to mine. Her hide felt like old leather, discolored with age. I heard the ease hiss of the atomic event 8 tube snaking from her nose.         I glanced at some of the beautiful... If you unavoidableness to get a broad essay, order it on our website: Orderessay

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