Note:  This microfic does not precisely address the 'Illness' theme of the June 13th Microfic
Challenge.  It was a case of something happening in Real Life that caught the attention of the
Youses Muses Gang, after which they refused to leave me alone until I did something with the
idea.  

It's short, but you still might want to have a Kleenex close to hand.

                                                      
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Failing.

It was the single word she had been able to make out amidst the Diagnosan’s untranslatable
warbles and trills.  John’s entire body was starting to fail.  

He had warned her repeatedly over the cycles:  humans did not live nearly as long as sebaceans.  

But he had been more cheerful and energetic last night:  laughing, hugging her, talking about the
future.  

He had slept much later than usual this morning, sprawled on his back with a half grin lodged in
place, looking thoroughly contented.  Looking happy.  

“John, get up.”  

He didn’t move.  He didn’t stir.

“John?”  

He wasn’t breathing.

“JOHN!”  


                                                         
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