For some time now he thought he was going to die. It was just a lingering feeling that his body was sick and it was only a matter of time. Maybe it was because his grandfather had a heart attack at 42 and his chest was starting to feel tight. Maybe it was because his liver labs have been so-so and that was before he started drinking so heavily. Maybe it was because he was so constantly tired, mentally and physically. Maybe it was guilt coming to get him and make him pay in kind. Maybe it was a simple case of depression and his pride was keeping him from the help he so desperately needs. But mainly he thought it just was his body winding things down. It's another Sunday night, a typical day for him in Beijing. Lunch with folks he can't talk too, dishes arriving that he doesn't know the content of. It used to be an experience, now it's just time to load up on the rice. Then an afternoon wandering the streets of Beijing, getting back in touch with himself, finding a sense of peace and rhythm. But all the while the sense of sickness was still with him. The lack of energy, the lack of pep. The knowing feeling that he is going to die. Soon. He's tried talking about it to those close to him. Once. But who wants to here this talk. He looks fit enough. He looks bright enough. But if you probe a little deeper you see the shadows, his struggle to stay alert. But no one looks deeper. He takes solace in this. For he knows one day he will just up and stop and be gone. He thought that day might be today, he was walking along a tree lined northeast-southwest angled road ¨C so atypical from all the north/south, east/west roads here ¨C and he thought he was going to pass out. He quickly inventoried his belongings. Would the people who find him know who to call? Would it matter? Would anyone notice? Or would they just push him off to the side of the road and wait for the next bus. Or maybe all he needed was a new pair of shoes. He's been thinking about getting a motorcycle, well a scooter if truth be told, but it's hard to navigate the shops when you don't speak the language. He's been watching people on scooters around town and thinks it would be fun. He's starting to feel a bit careless. It doesn't cross his mind until someone mentions it that a driving scooter in Beijing would be really dangerous, maybe a car would be a better choice. He thinks of crashing and getting hurt and it doesn't seem so bad. It seems kind of neutral. Then he thinks he has obligations and things to take care of and even if he feels these things would be better without him he knows it is not his choice. He really just thinks his body is about quit. One day the sun won't rise. But it will set.