Panic has begun to set in.
"I don't want to die." I mutter to myself. I want so badly to pace, but I'm confined to this ugly black chair with silver wheels that are beginning to squeak.
"Maria, I don't want you to die either." My wheelchair's at the foot of my bed. Johnathan is massaging my back, kneading the knots out of my shoulders. "But we can't... we can't do much about it, can we?" While everyone else slowly accepts my death, I'm beginning to fear it.
"We only have a few days left, and I want to spend them with you, not your worries." Johnathan kisses my cheek softly.
A wide smile spreads across my face. "You're right. I'm sorry, Johnathan. I didn't mean to bring it up... again. Let's spend the time we have now. I turn my head and kiss him.
It's something we do often now. Touching each other, kissing. Anything we can do to make this last week the best.
"I love you, you know?" He whispers into my ear.
"I know." I say softly, reaching up my hand to touch his cheek. He grabs my hand in his own, intertwining our fingers together.
And we stay like that for some time, just sitting.