Death

A newborn has trouble breathing. There is no crying, no gurgling, no coughing. It's still. Tense minutes pass as her mum heaves from the pain. The doctor gives a little slap on the baby's back. A faint cough resonates from deep within. The crying starts, and everyone in the room breathes easier.

The new mother trembles with a cacophony of laughter, pain, and tears. Do emotions ever get that mixed?

A life of pain, elation, suffering, contentment, gripes, celebrations. The little things that matter in life.

Before she left, the woman closed her eyes to remember the emotions she felt. Blood swirled in her nostrils, her tongue swam in vomit, but it didn't matter. This is a good way to go, she thought. She didn't know if she would ever feel again. There were so many schools of thought, who was she to believe? Did she ever want to feel again? After all, it was her feelings that caused her to choose between existence and the antithesis. Ahh, those emotions. The next dose of heroin kicked in.

There was now one more body in the morgue, one more body for the undertaker to embalm, one more funeral to be arranged, one less worker on the labour force, one less person paying taxes.

They also had one less friend, one less sister, daughter, mother.

She was finally happy.