(Somewhere in another universe a man sits on his bed, legs crossed, and taps on his keyboard. And maybe he's writing an email or perhaps an essay or even a manuscript of his dreams and desires. Maybe he's designing something on that laptop or maybe he's updating his social network status or maybe he's chatting with an old college friend who's in another country. And he'll look up suddenly and see his plant on the window sill, and it will look sad and pathetic and he'll stop tapping to give it some water. Then he'll sit back down and he'll keep tapping on his keyboard.)
She wrapped him up in gauze, mummifying. And I thought, how nice of them to have this time together. How nice of them to feel this way before it's over forever. And then she quietly left and it was my turn. In the room, I could sense his weakness. And the energy was fading, slowly but steadily. He was a mummy now, his eyes and nose and mouth hidden beneath the fabric. I sat down next to him and picked up a glass, half full with water. And I looked into the glass and through the water I could see all the white gauze. Then I heard him speak. I grasped onto the glass harder and spoke back to him. I could remember those feelings of knowing. Knowing that this was my last time before he'd be gone forever.
(Somewhere in another universe)