Posted: June 23, 2013 in Uncategorized

Forty days ago, gave me a stack of calendars and said this is it. This is all you have left. Maybe you can put one or two on the pile, maybe you take one or two off, but that’s about as much variance as there really can be to this sort of thing. Then, somehow, with a strength or apathy I can probably never know or at least never know again, he walked out of the room after clapping me on the shoulder, and got on with the rest of his day. He continued to get work done, he probably went home, ate dinner, maybe watched a little television. Not with the sense of accomplishing justice that a judge has in sentencing a criminal to life away from the world, but as a scholar, a learned man, who appraised my bones and organs and gave me a realistic expectation to start wrapping things up and leaving as little unfinished as possible. Were it not his job, he might even be entitled to think he was doing me a favor. Or not. Every day I wake up now, unsure of whether I should be grateful to be away of my mortality, or wish that I could somehow remove that knowledge and continue living my life at an ignorantly-set pace.


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