You wish you could of seen your thirtieth birthday, but it looks like your life is going to end at twenty-nine. You had so much going for you, but it’s all going away now. You’ll be dead soon and you won’t even be a body left to bury. It’s all earth shattering, but what can you do, but enjoy these precious last days. You have plenty of money saved up. It was supposed to go towards your retirement, but that’s not going to happen. You consider draining your bank account; taking all your money and spending it all on the things you’ve denied yourself in life. Spend it all on hookers and have a party, go down in style so no one forgets you. No, that’s stupid. There is no reason for you to go crazy and reinvent yourself as some party animal. Besides, that kind of thing takes time and you don’t have much of that left.
Outside of the doctor’s office, the world seems duller, listless. You pass buildings and people, but give them no mind. You’re so deep in thought that you almost step into traffic, but stop yourself at the last second. As the cars sped over the spot you’d be standing in if you hadn’t stopped, you thinking about whether it would be better or worse if you got hit by a car. It would be quick, probably less scary then shrinking down to nothing. But still, it’s not what you want. You want to savor every last second you have, enjoying everything to it’s fullest before you’re too small to enjoy it any further. You’re going to see this through till the end, no matter what.
The light changes and you cross the street, being careful to make you no morons sped through the red light and hit you. You’ve just decided to live out your last days, it would be a shame if they were cut short by a speeding car. It’s not far from your apartment, your fortress of solitude and the place where you will most likely meet your maker. You’ve lived in the apartment since moving out of your parents house. Appropriate that you’ll die in the place you planned to start off the rest of your life.
Enough of these dark thoughts on how unlucky you are and how your life sucks. You’ve decided to enjoy these last few days and you won’t spend them sulking by yourself in deep depression. You’ve always been an upbeat guy, unafraid of failure and getting dirty. You’re going to enjoy these last days, forget all your inhibitions and have a blast. There are several things you always wanted to do before you die, or in this case shrink, and you’d like to do some of them. Maybe growing smaller might even make some of your fantasies more exciting. It’s hard to turn a positive out of shrinking away to nothing, but maybe you can. The rate of your shrinking is a mystery to you. One day you could be five feet, then next either three feet or three inches. It would certainly be hard to get around when you started to become smaller then a foot, but what could you do? You’re short future was going to be about becoming smaller and smaller. Like the doctor said, you’ll shrink down until an atom could crush you.
You stop at the front door of your apartment, placing a hand on the hard wooden frame to think about what you can do now that your dying. You should probably get things in order, but when you think about sitting down and making the necessary calls your stomach twists up. Having to tell people your dying is something you just can’t do. As irresponsible as it sounds, your going to ignore what you should do and enjoy yourself. Let someone else decide this crap, you literally don’t have the time. When you reach to open the door, your hand starts to tremble. You’ve accepted dying, but not what you’ll find inside your apartment. There is someone inside who you have to explain this all to and decide where to go from there. Mustering up your courage, you open the door and ready yourself to have the most awkward conversation you’ve ever had.
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