Midnight is inevitable,

Each day must come to an end.

Each day with you is hoping that you make it to the next.

The clock started counting down the moment you stopped being able to walk up the stairs.

12 minutes.

I can’t imagine life without you.

You slip on the hardwood, your dull claws grasping for something to pull yourself back up with.

11 minutes.

The inevitable grows closer.

We’ve been each other’s whole lives.

From your six-months old and my three-years old

To your 12-years old and my 15-years old.

Watching your face slowly grow tired and withered,

Watching your eyes become cloudy.

10 minutes.

Watching you lose any coordination you used to have.

Watching you start to forget things.

Watching you lose the urge to fight whatever is slowly consuming your body.

10 minutes turns into 9.

9 turns into 8.

The minutes pass inconsistently.

I’m never sure when the clock will count down another minute.

I have no concept of when the clock may hit zero,

And that’s the scariest part of it all.

-Anneke Howard-Smith