Pity’s Sake

I stare at the snow.

“The yard almost looks nice,” I say before realizing there’s nobody to hear the conversation.

Habits of a lifetime are not easily broken.

His shoes stand by the door, right where he stepped out of them.

The fever and coughing kept getting worse, so we decided on the hospital as a precaution.

It started to snow as we were leaving, so he chose to wear his winter boots.

“At least,” he said, then paused to cough. “They’ll be easy to take off.”

“It’s probably nothing,” he insisted.

And then they put him on the ventilator.

 

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