Weeding out the weak

Each day brings me closer to the inevitable. The feeling is indescribable.
Shock? Yes, that. But something else too.
Not numb. That would probably be welcome.
Not really flat either. I felt that after Fred died and this isn’t it.

It’s a sort of fear; panic. But it’s without movement.
It’s immobile. But not the frozen deer in the headlights thing.

Perhaps it’s like the feeling a fleeing zebra might have, at that very moment when the lion clips its heel.


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