His words and his voice are similar but something else emitting itself from his limbs. It's a stench that floats aimlessly like a corpse afloat the River Styx. I sit still, pateint and silent as he continues to ramble of his days passing. But secretly I gag. A garbage stink is filling my nostrils, my olfactories are begging for mercy. Not today. Not today.
His breath becomes slow, his sentence nearing it's final word.
"I suppose you should get back to work now," I quickly interject before any more disscussion can be furthered.
"Don't worry, I still have ten minutes."
A pressure in my abodomen tightens while a quiant smile stretches across his thin lips.
"I'm so glad you're here."
This is not the man I love.
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