With each passing day in the geriatrics hospital ward, Terrance and Petunia draw ever nearer to their looming fate. They've known it was coming their whole lives, and yet now that their time draws near, they want to escape what has been planned for...
That night, the moon climbed its way up into the starlit heavens in suffocating silence. As its silvery light slipped through the curtains of the small hospital room, it fell across two white-swaddled figures laid side-by-side on a bed. Two stone-cold hands peeked out from beneath the sheets, reaching desperately for each other, their hold broken.
Its pale glow crept further into the room to illuminate two white boxes, now open. Two long, thin lengths of steel glinted wickedly within, attached to two empty syringes with droplets of dark green liquid still clinging to their sides like blood clotted inside a vein.
And in the folds of the night, the stars yearned for the rhythm of two hearts, no longer beating; the clouds mourned for two souls no longer there.
But it wasn't long before the impatient, selfish world forgot the bright lives of Terrance and Petunia; and in its pursuit of the future, its unrelenting hunger for progress and quick, neat ends, it moved on.
To where?
What a wonderful, perplexing question.
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