Couldn’t pay enough attention to watch TV. Couldn’t write fiction. It was then I started thinking about suicide. You start asking questions. Just ...ow bad am I willing to let it get before I say fuck it? What will living as a cripple cost my family vs living without me? Will my wife love me?I started drawing criteria. One is the ability to read. Reading makes life bearable. Aphasia hadn’t touched my ability to read even though it can so that was a positive. I even considered other modes of. Her eye was bruised, her lip swollen and bleed. Most disturbingly though, her eyes were dead, staring blankly at the cabinets across from her as tears ran down her cheeks silently. ‘Madi?’ He spoke softly at first, afraid of startling her. Her lack of response made his pulse beat faster as he stepped closer, raising his voice ‘Madi?’ She still failed to respond. He sank to his knees beside her, his hand falling to rest on her shoulder, stopping her rocking. The break in rhythm seemed to be all. More

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