Ian left the sad grey place and walked towards his house. He stood at the door for a moment, feeling a strange sense of peace wash over him, then took a key out of the back pocket of his $150 jeans.
He turned it in the lock and felt the click that told him he was in. He walked in, hoping to catch his wife home and baking something.
No luck. There was a scribbled note left on the counter. Ian walked over to it and picked it up, seeing the beautiful handwriting of his wife.
Just going out to a seminar. Be back at about 10 o'clock. Dinner is provided there so don't bother making me any, if you even get home in time.
Hope your doctor's appointment went well. Everything's going to be alright.
See you soon,
Ian felt a lump rise in his throat. Was she sure that she'd see him soon? What if the seminar ran late? Then she'd never see him again. Well, alive that is. But a seminar wouldn't last that long, would it? Ian sighed, and dropped the note back on the counter.
He walked into the bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. What type of person was he? Really? His weary grey eyes stared back at him, the shadows underneath them prominent. His cheeks were lined with a few wrinkles, and he had crow's feet.
"I'm not really that young, am I?" he said aloud to himself. "I've lived a fair enough life. At least I'm not in my twenties still. Then that would be hell, dying so early."
Ian sighed. Saying optimistic thoughts to himself wasn't going to work, and he knew it. "Face it, Ian. You're going to die soon. Really soon." He stared at himself in the mirror some more. He looked so tired, so drawn...
He decided to...