A Sketch
Whatever it was they gave him made him laugh about dying. He was deliriously happy, his arms flailing over the side of the gurney and his stomach shaking in boiserous jolts of laughter. He was making the nurse laugh at him and his dying while the pain was receding in ebbs of drugged dullness. He focused on the lights above him as if they had sullenly brightened his attention. While admiring their beauty, some saliva had escaped from the corner of his mouth and was making its way down his chin before the nurse carefully wiped it away with affected precision. He wasn’t laughing anymore because his mouth wasn’t working anymore. He thanked her brown eyes with a sustained glance.
He remembered her eyes.
“I can’t see, your eyes are too dark. I can’t even see your cornea you probably don’t have one. Mmmm… I give up, you’re lying.”
“Will you just look. I really do have green specks, ya just have to look.”
“Ok, lemme see.” She came close and flickered her tongue across his lips before taking a long, breathless draught from them. Her brown eyes ere moist with laughter.
He was looking at the lights again. They were still bright. A muffled giggle erupted in his throat as he thought how everything was supposed to grow dimmer, but wasn’t. The pain was creeping back in an attempt to crudely let him know he was alive, but he escaped before he could really laugh about it again.
