They Died with their Boots On

“Shaved a lot of faces in my day, never cut a customer, not once.”  He tried to get up, but fell back into his chair.  He was ready, he just needed a hand.  I pulled him up.

“Wait, my hat.”  He pointed his trembling hand to an old army hat.  I put it on his head.

“Only thing from the old uniform that still fits.”

We walked together into his bathroom and I helped him into the tub.  He pulled up his robe sleeves and exposed his wrists.  I made two quick slits, it’s best to do it without advance warning like a doctor giving an injection to a toddler.

“Don’t feel anything, shouldn’t I feel something?”

I shook my head and covered him with the old crocheted throw that must have been made by his wife.





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