Larry twisted his emaciated body in his bed and glanced weakly out of
the window towards the cemetery across the road. His chest lifted slightly with
another strained, uninspired breath as his bony hands gripped the top of the
bed sheet. The rancid smell of phantom cigarette smoke infiltrated his
nostrils. That was impossible; he hadnt smoked in months.
The cancer had announced itself like an unwelcome in-law back in
February, peeling away at his exterior in a matter of weeks, to the point where
looking into a mirror revealed a strangers glare in return. It held him
hostage, eating away at his strength, laugh, and even his pride.
He studied the tombstones, standing in perfectly aligned rows like
unforgiving sentries. They said that a persons life flashes across the
mind in the last few moments, sort of like an old, worn videotape that plays
over and over again.
Larrys mind was blank. There wasnt much he cared to
remember about his life anyway. From a distant chamber somewhere in his mind he
could hear his fathers voice lecturing him about gratitude. Larry fought
back a tear; not one of sadness, but of rage. He felt he still had a score to
settle with the world, even in his current state. He felt something strange
happening in his chest as he watched the freshly cut grass in the cemetery blow
cheerily in the summer wind.
His eyes closed for the final time as he prepared for the trip across