1. Wallace Minor, Heart Failure
Have you ever thought about the meaning of life? Most people have. But really, no one has ever answered it. Does it even exist? Why can't anyone find it?
I am going to find it. I ponder this theory as I lay in the hospital bed, my bony legs covered by a rough, blue blanket. A heart monitor beeps rhythmically next to me. Although I don't understand why it is even there. It always beeps slowly, slower than before, just as it should. Eventually it is going to stop. The exceedingly slow beeps of the monitor tell the world of my failing heart, beating slower and slower. And eventually, it will stop.
My days are spent here, watching the same re-runs over and over again, and waiting for a new heart that I know will never come. The nurses stop reading the chart at the foot of my bed, marked with my name, Wallace Minor, for they see that there is nothing to be done. They see death in my pale face. They know that I am already gone.
I rest my head on my pillow, somehow tired from being tired. Tired from being bored. I fall asleep faster than I ever have, probably ever.