Five minutes. Three hundred seconds. Daring you, no racing you. That’s all you have left. You attempt to smile at the drenched faces that whisper it’s gonna be okay. You just shake your head in disbelief at the lies. That’s what they’ve been saying all along. How do you spend it, live it, breathe it? Slowly, you get up out of the creaky, worn bed sporting a faded yellow stain. Your shaking fingers start to caress the patch, a slight smile spreading on your face. The door slams shut. You don’t have to look up—just another one of your spectators afraid of the end. You crawl to the door, gingerly turning the doorknob, watching the veins slowly pulse through your translucent skin. With a newborn determination, you strut to the anemic-blue-walled room next door. Wrapped in the itchy wool blanket is another one of you. You half-heartedly greet him, wondering if you look like that to your faithful viewers. He grunts in response, which brings a grimace to his puckered face. You ask if you can sit. He gestures toward a ragged chair, no doubt a gift from one of his loved ones. You hobble over toward the chair, but then decide to sit by his frail body. You steadily open your once sealed lips, and the journey has begun.

Two and a half minutes. One hundred and fifty seconds. Half gone. Half left. Either way, half. Your long debate with the man has come to a close. You wait for his answer. He coughs—no,wheezes--then subtly shakes his head. You crumble. Defeated. Destroyed. Rejected. Always, always, always. You start to wail. You have no time to hide that dejected look on your face. He starts to shout. Denying what I have told him as the way. He looks at me pitifully then brusquely nods his chin to the door.

One minute. Sixty seconds. One fourth has flew by. Hypocrites. Forsaking actuality. Is this what life is? You wonder. You laugh, not out of humor. But out of sadness for the world, you fall. Hard. Down, down, down to the cold, apathetical ground. You fold your hands and cry up to the sky. Why? you demand. Why couldn’t you save him? Twenty seconds. You run as quickly as you can to the room next door, when you are hit. The light. It’s true, you howl in hysterics. The man jumps out of his refuge, and folds his hands with fervor. He pleads with the divine one. You are no longer afraid. You take a last look at the frozen world around you, then soar.