"\I'm to damn tired, to damn sick, to damn old/", Thought Rick as he slammed his truck door closed. It was early December, the cold would suck the air right out of anyone's lungs but it didn't bother rick, he took another drag off his Marlboro cigarette as he fumbled around for his house key. Rick pushed the old door open and brushed his shoes on the mat, he set his bag down and took his jacket off. The house was small just big enough for one man, no pet, no family, just one man. He walked to the corner of the small living space knelt down and began to kindle a fire. now it might not seem any different from any other cold night, or any other old man but tonight was very different and rick wanted everything to be prefect.
See, Rick got out of the doctors office 2 days ago knowing that the disease was nearing the end of its journey and Rick had excepted that but he was not gonna waste his last one tonight. Kronus Disease was painless but it was nearly unavoidable, It started by slowly paralyzing certain parts of the brain, then moving on to the heart, you could get tested for it but there was one sure sign. you start dreaming less then less until nothing followed by death. Physically painless, almost like falling asleep but emotionally it destroyed people, hurt their souls, made them change. It didn't matter anymore for Rick, rick had lost his family years ago, all of them. He fought for years, his demons, his alcoholism, asking god why he lost everything, why him And after losing his 3 brothers in the great war, his parents to a fire, his 2 kids in a car wreck and finally, the last nail in his coffin, his wife to cancer. The one person who held him together through everything. To add to the cosmic joke that was ricks life, only months after losing his wife, he started to dream less, he stopped having dreams of seeing his family and started having dreams about losing them. The Kronus disease was eating its way through his brain, his dreams, his memory.
"\no more waiting/". Thought Rick as he pulled the kettle off the old stove. He poured himself a cup full and headed toward his chair in the living room. he sat in the aged leather chair, it conformed to his warm body as he set his tea down and struck up another bad habit. The tea calmed him but the nicotine put his on edge. He wanted to be right in between. Tired enough to dream well but awake enough to enjoy them. His wife always told him warm Earl Gray and sage tea help promote dreams, so as much as he hated the taste he drank it anyway, washing it down the a Marlboro Menthol cigarette.
Gotta go finish cooking. I'll finish the story in my head if you want. Just say so!