Big Exit

Seven days after we cut out your voice box, you announced that you were leaving. You flung yourself off the bed, ripped at your hospital gown and propelled yourself down eleven flights of stairs with the precise, dramatic flair of a seasoned, stage actor. You were a sight to see.

I followed you down, down, down; my blue scrubs, too big, slipping down over my hips as I ran. There was no stopping you.