Last Conversation

Your wide eyes seemed childlike on your emaciated face.

“Do you know what’s happening?” I asked.

You nodded.

Unsure if you knew what I was asking, I continued, “Next time, don’t refuse morphine.”

I was practical until the end that I didn’t know was the end. And you let me.

A special education teacher by day, Theresa Milstein writes middle grade, YA, and dabbles in poetry. theresamilstein.blogspot.com