When All Is Said And Done – Part 3
They are giving him the white pills – the good ones. He was pleased with that, though they hadn’t arrived yet.
His right eye was wrong – with a lens in his glasses thicker than he ever had.
He was slumped, crumpled in a chair in a way he never did, in a way not like him.
It was not like him because it was just a snatched fragment of a jumbled dream. It was not like him because he’s dead.