Sunday, 31 January 2016


People are clumsy in the morning.

I stumble and fall over everything. The bed sheets, my shoes, invisible cats. Everything. I notice the writing on the back of my hand.

One Hundred Days

That's all I have left.

There is nothing peculiar about this morning. My wife is doing the dishes. She has three thousand and four days on the back of her hand.

I walk down the stairs. We have thirteen steps. That's seven point six days for every step.

I am becoming a mathematical genius in the short time I have left. My wife has broken a cup.

100 Words written for the 100 Word Challenge hosted by Tara Roberts over at Thin Spiral Notebook. Check it out and maybe join in the fun.

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