Stupid Fat -CWC week #2
Sam felt the blood soak through the absorbent cotton. He straightened his posture and after, resolved to lay at the edge of the table that had the curettage on it.
He could still smell the mustiness in the old garage. It was more than that now however, the air had a note of finality in it. The sureness that required no argument.
Amongst the platelets and bodily fluids that had gone in the suctioning tube, the key had been suctioned too.
Sam knew he was going to die.
He was going to die where no one would find him until his body had decayed and bore no recognition to his original form.
First his body would stiffen in denial, failing to acknowledge what mother nature knew she did well every time.
Then the body mass he had been trying to shed would slip off like melted goo.