I am old. From here to the end which is only three more days it will get steadily worse. Eventually in the middle of the night three days hence, I will simply stop breathing. The clock turns backward. I struggle through the rest of the day in pain.
Evening gives way to an afternoon sunset.
A few hours earlier it is lunch. An intern brings applesauce and a small glass of skim milk on a black try. It sits uneaten until he comes to bring it back to the kitchen to be uncooked. The day fades back into mid-morning, then to early morning. I watch cartoons on the tv as the janitors clean out the rooms and smile mechanically at the people in the rooms that they don't know.