His face was pale, pasty white with black hair shooting out of pores spaced enough apart that one could see red irritated skin vomiting puss.
His speech was hoarse, unfeeling. He spit poison at everyone around him. To his nurse, Tabitha, he would criticize and raise his voice.
She was a young girl with plenty of life ahead of her, and he a older man with cancer. She dreaded his visits and oftent...
