Catheter cleaned, urine bag emptied, medication taken. Sponge bath administered.

Oh the joy of having AIDS. Tiny particles doing their assault, quietly, as I lay here dying.. Fresh perspiration sprouting along my forehead. I cannot speak. I am asked to blink instead; the oldest trick in the book.

“Hank, I love you,” someone says at my bedside.

I blink back, hoping they know my resonse.

I love you: the oldest trick in the book.