Moving On by Ricardo Marcelino

Photo by Eric Ward on Unsplash

Our relationship was on the 7th floor of the Hospital. They called us in, a doctor met with us and explained the situation. The relationship had sustained serious trauma and was now in life support. Now we had to choose, he said. 

“We can let nature run its course or we can revive it. But I’m not sure about what kind of life quality it will have in the future. That will be entirely up to you.”

We had been holding hands while listening and now we gently and naturally let go. I sat on the chair next to the bed. 

“Let’s revive it,” she said looking at me. “I know I can make this work, you can change!” Bitch. 

I looked her in the eyes, reached for the plug and pulled it.

Later, a man from a funeral home came to ask what kind of service we would like. He showed us a catalogue with several caskets.

“Just throw it in the bin”, I said, leaving. She followed and stopped next to me outside the elevator. I was looking straight, waiting for the door to open, but could see in my peripheral vision that she was staring at me. I knew – even without looking – what was the face she had on. I decided to take the stairs.

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