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.
