Under the Stars

I always wished I could touch the stars. I would always ask my parents if I could. They would always say that you would have to be gone to do that. I never understood that, until I got my legs chopped off. My parents whispered to each other "He'll be touching the stars soon." I was angry. Furious at them for thinking that I wouldn't make it. That I wouldn't survive. I looked at their wet faces, covered in salty tears, and suddenly felt a reason for pity. They had a reason to think that way. I stare at the stump. I looked up to the ceiling. Then I hear a baby cry to the room next to me. Someone just gave birth. The doctor walks into the room and holds a prosthetic leg in his hands. Cradling it in his arms like a baby.
"So?" I ask. Expecting him to answer.
"So what?" His response was weak. So much for being a doctor.
"Is there a chance that I may be able to touch the stars soon?"
He gives me a friendly, yet pitiful smile. "No sir. You'll be under the stars for longer."