Procrastinate by Dawn Munro |
"Where are you? You don't sound like yourself."
"I'm in a hospice, Jonas." "Hospice! Why? What's wrong?" "What is usually wrong when someone is in a hospice, Jonas? I'm dying." "You're...dying?" "Don't sound so upset. Everything and everybody has to go sometime. You know that--it is what it is." "But...you were fine when I left!" "Well don't say it like an accusation! It's not like I asked for an inoperable brain tumour." "What about chemo, radiation?" "Don't you think we tried that? It didn't help. Just made me sick." "How long? How long do the doctors give you?" "A month--maybe less." "Are you in pain?" "Not really. A headache that doesn't go away, mostly, but the morphine takes the edge off it." "I'm coming to see you, Irene. I'm sorry." "Why? What's the point after all this time? What do you want? Forgiveness, Jonas? I forgive you. I forgave you a long time ago." "So...a month, huh?" "Yeah, Babe, a month. But if you're coming, for once, don't put it off. It's not like I can wait for you this time." ~~~
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