Work Text:
He'd been dead for a decade and a half.
Sometimes he had coffee in the morning before going to work, sometimes he'd sleep late on Saturday and have pancakes in front of the TV. At least, he used to. Now he simply thought about it, remembering the weekends of long ago.
Death was funny like that: life just kept going.
And going...
You simply carried on with your life.
<sigh>
Lying there on his blankets on the floor, not even having bothered with a bed, he hit “play.”
His wife was still alive, at least as far as he knew. He wouldn't know, but it was a reasonable assumption.
He opened a can of food or a meal tray — he couldn't tell you which. It didn't matter to him enough to even notice that much. No zest for life, when you're dead.
Life just goes on...
O ~~~ O