472 Days and Counting; A very short story.

472 Days and Counting

I have spent 472 days behind the steel, paint-chipped bars of my cell. My very cold cell that I have to share with my cell mate, Robert.

One year and 107 days, so far.

The prison guards allow me to have fifteen minutes outside, twice each day. Each  step outside, I’m inhaling the carcinogens of a cigarette. That is two cigarettes each day.

944 cancer sticks behind bars, and they aren’t working.

Television time is allowed during lunch, I am able to fit in at least three episodes of Will and Grace. I fucking hate that show, but it is better than staring at a blank wall.

1,416 episodes of Will and Grace..I think I may stop counting.


It is not only about how many cigarettes I have smoked, or how many episodes of Will and Grace I have watched.

It is about how many days I have been living before my execution.

Thankfully, I am old with no one to miss.

Thankfully, I wish for death every night after closing my eyes to sleep.

Unfortunately, the anticipation is not killing me any faster.

472 days too long.

472 days and counting.

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