It was the day you had dreaded the most. Roach had been deathly ill all summer, leaving him bedridden. Tests were now just coming in from the hospital and they weren't good.

The doctor sat down with both of you in his office. His eyes were dull and apologetic as he pushed some papers forward. Roach lifted up the paper and read quietly to himself. He then glanced up at the doctor.

"You're positive?" Roach whispered. "I-I really have stomach cancer?"