He is sick and dying. Well, except for the dying part, but he is most definitely sick. Or maybe he isn’t sick at all, maybe he is just a human being. One of those human beings who, every time they have a cold, feel like they are sick and dying. And they are never dying a normal quiet death. No, oh no, it is never that easy. They always die horrible painful, and especially, loud deaths. After they are done dying, they continue living, until they get their next cold and then, of course, they die again, even more painful, even more horrible, even louder.
‘Honey, I am dying!’ He screams in total agony.
‘Yes, sweetie, I know. I will get you some tissues,’ she responds calmly.
‘I really do think you can go to work,’ she says after she handed him the tissues,.
‘I can’t die at work.’ He feels terribly insulted.
That’s how it always goes. And more importantly, that’s how it will always go. Well, until he really dies, that is. I hope that time will be less painful and less horrible than all the other times.