I look around the hospital room and see doctors and nurses rushing between beds of dying bodies. I then look at my reflection in the small outdated television in the corner. Why? Why, did I think it was a good idea to have a meal with that man? A man who told me he had a disease. But did I care? No, to put it simply I loved that man and I didn't care if it meant I might get it as well. I grip the sheets that I will die in. A million thoughts flying in my mind. But one stood out. And as I heard the deafening sound of my body slowly depleting, I keep this thought in mind. I slowly wave for a nurse to come to my side and whisper the thought in her ear. "Ducks have weird dicks."
