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…Roger whispered as he gently massaged the left side of his chest. Caressing, consoling, as if it were really listening. As if he could bypass whatever was going on inside, whatever was causing it to feel these sharp pains.
We’re okay. We don’t drink, we don’t smoke. We eat fine.
He thought of his hopes and dreams. Sure he wanted to leave a legacy that would be remembered in history books, who didn’t? But what he really wanted, more than life itself, was someone to pass it all on to. For if there was no one left behind to carry his name, to blossom from his seed and advance more than he had ever been able to do then it would be as if he had never existed at all.
Just give me twenty more years.
A child and twenty more years, then I’ll be ready.