I died one morning.

I died one morning.
My oldest son was 4.
He wanted McDonalds for breakfast.
Standing in line, smelling the food overwhelmed me.
I made it out the door, my poor son following, and passed out.
I landed on my chin, which needed stiches and broke several teeth, which would plague me for years.
I was 27 and had been a widow for two weeks.
A voice told me, “Go back, it’s not your time.”
I hadn’t been eating and had no potassium in my system.
My ❤ stopped.
I died one morning.

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