Near Death

The flashing steel illuminated the pale concrete, and there was a sudden cool wash of light.

I understood. I'd been careless, reckless, selfish, and stupid. It was another long night of work to support the fiancee who never asked me to work a day. I was exhausted, bitter, and ready to drink and fight. It would be our third fight this week. It was Tuesday. Baby, we were on a roll.

Bills kept stacking, and I felt drinking them out of my ulcer. She kept looking at me with those cool, gray disapproving eyes, and it just make my belly wrench and burn. So I worked and I drank. So she disapproved. So I worked. So she glared. So we fought.

God, I was such a fool. The pain was getting worse...the stink of gasoline. In the distance, I could hear the ambulance wailing in the distance. Tonight, it was coming for me. Thank god. As soon as I was off the morphine, I was going to quit my job. Fuck it. I love my soon-to-be wife and hate my growing ulcer too much to worry. Money will come; maybe I'll work for my father, or for her mother.

There are so many opportunities out there for a man ready to love his life with a passion. The gurney was warm and stiff, and I could feel it carrying me on to a better tomorrow.

The wailing sirens went quiet. I was losing consciousness...when I woke up, things were going to be better. She'd been sick lately, and so worried...wait...

Worried...sick. We'd always been so safe.

Why was the ambulance going so slowly...?

Their faces....

Oh.

Well.

Fuck.