A Bench In The Park

Abel has a Very Bad Disease. He coughs up blood and stumbles and faints and throws up after eating the tiniest piece of toast.

One day, he sits down on his usual bench to rest after having walked half a mile to the park when he notices he isn't the only person sitting on that bench. And despite all his rudeness and thoughts about death, he starts to get to know that other person very well.

But how much time is left?

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'Hi.' I said. Spoke. Blurted out. Tried to say. He probably understood anyway.

'Are you okay?' he asked while I wiped some blood from the corner of my mouth. I must've looked astounded because he quickly added, 'I'm sorry, it's not -'

'I'm fucking incredible,' I interrupted, 'I just walked half a mile and now I feel like I'm fucking dying but honestly I feel like I'm fucking dying all the time and I am probably fucking dying all the time so that's probably the reason why I feel like I'm fucking dying. Because I am. Yay, great. How are you?'

My social skills had degenerated much at the same pace of my health. In case that wasn't clear.