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Blood red eyes stared straight ahead, through a thick greyhound cloud of smoke. Choking coughs emerged from the man, as he continued to wheeze. His lips were coarse and black, the cancer having eaten away at them for years. His body was lanky and sickly thin, his skin was ashy and pale. The man's legs burned as they carried his frail body, along with an IV drip on wheels, down the middle of Berkley street. He was taken to visit an old pal, every week, just across the town. His best friend for 35 years, the only one who ever cared, just enough not to hurt him.



John held the life support machine, steady. He refused to let his grip slip; he needed to carry the life support machine, just like he promised he would. The battery wouldn't last long. Priscilla understood, she always lightened the mood with jokes and laughter. He'd always been fond of her sense of humour, it always mixed with the pot quite well. John smiled at the memory, he missed his old life.



He walked, in a manner, with his head hanging low. He wore a dirty, once-white button up shirt, with a black sweater around his neck. The radio he had was nothing more than a cheap piece of plastic, with a flickering display, and dust. The static broke for a moment and John was able to hear a snippet of a song, "don't it make you proud to be able to say, I never walked away from a friend, I never walked away from a friend."



The streets were empty, the air was clear, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. There was a small smog hovering over the city, some minor pollution lingered at this particular moment in time. John had a feeling it's only going to get worse in the years to come; his old friend Frankie said it was going to rain, more than a few floods were in the pre-winter.



John, having crossed the street, entered his old friend Frankie's home. The front door was unlocked, John held it open with one hand and wheeled Pris with the other. The hall looked, and smelled, strange, "I hope everything is alright," he said in-between coughs. He eventually arrived at the living room, the place looked different, smelled different, felt different. There was unmistakable voices coming from the lounge.



John heard a few voices, among them was a woman's. The voice, despite being female, still had a slight hint of toughness to it. John heard a few grunts, and the sound of a computer keyboard. Then, came a woman's voice, still scratchy, but it was more high pitched, "this is a nice remix, man, can you do it again?"



John's eyes lit up, in another life, he would've loved to been able to sing like that. He struggled for a moment, then used his hands to lift the battery to his lips, and closed his eyes. He coughed as he opened his eyes again, it took a moment for him to remember how to speak. "It's a pleasure to meet, you may call me John." he said as he rolled out the chair behind the table, and guided his friend with his free hand.



John took a breath, hitching himself for a moment, he had to stop, a cough had hit him. His head began to flutter, then he heard someone say, "you're sick you know, it was too much for you. I love you Frankie." Despite his best efforts, John fell, his body twitching in the chair. He used the chance to grab a glass of water and gently pressed it to his lips, pouring the water down his throat, saving his life, "you always gave me hope." John said as he began coughing once more, his fluttering head looked forward to fade away, away from his wretched body.

He heard Frankie speak once more, "I can't believe you're gone. What a loss."



"It's okay Frankie, I understand," the lady replied.

John's mind stopped and laughed; even in death, he can pick the best pick up lines.



He closed his eyes, his form slowly dying away. The few breaths he took, only served to ease his lungs. He was being recycled, he could see, by his soul, slowly drifting towards The Void. He was transported, gently falling into The Void. The Void began to swirl and sparkle, light flashing across his face, then his vision was gone, opening up the empty road, just being left with The Void.

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