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     He looked up at his wall, scribbled with notes. He turned around, and lay again on his bed. He tossed and turned, until finally he was able to read everything above his bed from the position he lay in.
     Everything was written over everything else, until the only thing that could be read was, "Do I want to die?"
He turned back and lay again in his bed. Fully dressed, he rolled on over to his right side and put his hands under his head, instead of a pillow. He faced the wall.
     Crayon in hand, he made two columns.
     PROS.
     CONS.
     He turned over onto his other side, leaving the crayon behind him. He sat up, startled by the sound he had heard.
     The door flew open, yet there was no visitor. Death had come, and would assess him.
     He turned round, and grabbed the crayon. Furiously scribbling, he completed the Pros column. Only so much could be written, and in the end, the Pros column had been reduced to what the notes above his bed were. Tears welled in his eyes.
     He looked over at the Cons column. Empty. He looked at it, glaring in hatred. He didn't want there to be anything. But there was. He raised his hand to write.
     He got up from the bed. He took a couple steps back, and looked at his chart. The left side, the Pros side, was illegible. He wrote everything that made him want to die. Pain. Suffering. People. Human apathy. He held his head down in shame. he couldn't look at the other side. He could feel Death breathing on his neck. He straightened. Written neatly and slowly, all that stood on the right side was the name, "Rachel". He looked away, sobbing. Death looked down on him. He left, closing the door behind him. Only he stayed, curled up in a ball on the floor, bawling.
     He stood up. He looked again at the wall. Everything else had been erased.
     

     The only thing that remained was the name, "Rachel".