Sometimes death invites itself into your home
Just as it did him.
I could see it, laughing at me through his eyes
I could hear it in every word he spoke
I could sense it when he reached out to me, beckoning.
And he did not know it.
He could not see it.
He could not hear it.
He carried on with life...
And I watched him deteriorate.
Death grew bored, as it often does while manifesting itself in the sick.
Ready to move on to its next victim, I saw the lights go out
He dropped.
His breathing came no more
His eyes were like marbles, dead in his lifeless skull.
And death moved on.