She had a sprinkle of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She had probably hated them, trying to cover them with foundation, complaining to her mother about how they made her look.
Her first love had probably told her he adored them, the colony of tiny dots spreading on her skin like a blushing apple.
Her friends probably told her they brought out her eyes, made her look cute.
Nobody told her how they would look against the steel table and white blanket. How her mother would cry to sleep thinking about them- lying six feet under the earth.