twenty-eight more days.

hes been counting, he has exactly twenty eight more days left to live and he had no idea what to do. He’s been ignoring the impactful smell of death that slowly crept closer each morning he woke up finding himself unable to move, the restful nights he’d find himself staring at the ceiling of his house, hoping, just for a moment time would slow or stop, where he could finally breathe.

death has always been on his mind, for years. Cancer was going to get him one day, what mindset would change that?

that was until he meant you. You were old friends, not talking much anymore. You didn’t even know he was dying, he barely told anyone expect the family he doesn’t talk too. He suddenly called you, his voice ever so raspy and tired. He invited you over.

May 3rd, 2023

he opened the door immediately after you knocked, a light smile on his face followed by a relived chuckle. He wore a white shirt and loose jeans

“Thank god you came. Hello!” he said awkwardly