There's nothing worse than a long, boring car ride. Okay, maybe there are many things worse, but on this day, alone in a car was the last place that Glenn wanted to be. Snippets of his conversation with Dr. Franks kept floating through his mind, as if written in large, glowing letters. The word "terminal" was especially pretty, ninety feet tall, lit up with pulsing red, and blue lights, decorated by little angels wrapped in streamers, and blowing trumpets. It was such a beautiful image, and one that he just could not get out of his head. Later on, he knew that he would get emotional over it all, but right now, on the road back home, he felt somehow numb to it all.
He was completely lost in thought, and it briefly had occurred to him to pull his rusty pick-up truck to the side of the road, until he was able to get himself together, but after some consideration he decided not to bother. Hell, he was going to die anyway. May as well make it quick and painless, rather than live in the haze of drugs, and pain that he had seen his mother suffer through, only ten years before.
He remembers her being in so much pain at the end that even opening her wasted blue eyes was a chore for her, and it brought tears to her eyes. Just thinking about it now brought tears to his eyes now.
"Terminal," again, lighting up inside his mind. He was having a hundred thoughts per second, but that was the word that kept re-occurring to him. "Terminal." Just his luck, cancer. He had spent his entire life avoiding things that would cause cancer, but in the end you can't escape genetics. Genetics is an evil bitch, and it looks like it had caught up to him, like he always knew that it would. He slams his fist on the steering wheel, more out of habit than out of anger, and is rewarded with a sharp pain in his arm. Now he decides to pull over to the side of the road, leaving the truck running, just in case it decides to not start back up again, as has often been the case.
Terminal.
He laughs, thinking about this word. The angels have been replaced by little demons, but they were still smiling, and still blowing their golden trumpets, so there didn't seem to be any reason to be angry at them. Who could be angry at something dressed in white streamers, and blowing trumpets? After a few moments, it occurs to him that he may be losing his mind. "Still quicker than cancer," he thinks, and starts laughing again. It's not a good sounding laugh, and anyone that would happen to hear it would be more worried about him than he was himself. Still, it was better than crying, at least a the moment.
A flashy red car flies by him, passing far too close for comfort, and snaps him out of his hysterics. "What am I going to tell June?" he says out loud. They had been together for most of their lives. High school sweethearts. Would she even be able to live without him? Would she be able to carry on without him by her side? This seems to be too much for him, and for the first time since he got the terrible news, he broke down and cried, on the side of the road.
Another car drives by, and slows down just long enough for some ginger kid to roll the window down, and mock him. The car was a piece of shit, and clearly the kid was a little punk, but it still didn't stop him for feeling a moment of anger at the punk ass. He fights the urge to jump in the truck, and chase after them. Afterall, he may be in a slightly elevated emotional state. Being told that you were going to do soon always has that effect on him. At least, he would imagine it did. To be honest, he'd never been told that before, so this was something kind of new to him.
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