text: Hey guys! This is a narrative for my 11th grade AP Lang & Comp class. Please give as much feedback as you can. Here it is. A Brush With Death “Inoperable.” The word resonated throughout the stale, bleak, disgustingly clean room as the stench of cleaning chemicals penetrated my nostrils and buried itself forever into my consciousness. My chest tightened the moment it struck my ears, I was unable to grasp the meaning of the word, but what stood out clearly to me was it’s full meaning. From the doctor’s grim tone to my great-aunt’s horror-struck reaction it was painfully obvious that this was something bad. “Please, just put it simply.” “The cancer has metastasized all over the body. If we had known sooner maybe there was something we could’ve done.” “So you’re saying I’m-” “Dying. Yes.” The minutes slowly rolled by and we’d since left the claustrophobic room, but the cloud of silence and unease still loomed over us. I had heard the word before, but I didn’t truly understand it. I hadn’t lost anyone that I know of, and dying is something the people on the television do. Surely she knows this is the case. Just then the most reasonable thought I could fathom crept into my mind, she’s playing a joke on me. How could someone I know possibly die? I must tell her the joke is over, to give it up. As that occurs to me another thought makes itself heard. Almost if whispered to me by some unseen force, look at her. That is not the face of a joke. It would be rude to say anything about it, and she always wanted us to be nice to people. Go with her to get ice cream, it may cheer her up. “Aunt Shelly? Can we get ice cream?” “Sure sweetie. Whatever you want.” The car door closes and I put my seatbelt on, it would be unsafe not to. “Obey the law,” she always said, “everyone else has to.” She starts the car and I watch her, seeing what was once a strong, beautiful young woman turn into a weakly structured frame with skin carelessly draped over it, seemingly before my eyes. Has she always looked so tired? I thought to myself. I don’t remember the pale grey hair streaming down from atop her head looking so lifeless. I don’t remember the sense of pity looking at her invoked. Mostly, I don’t remember the infinite hopelessness swimming deep within her eyes. I was so immersed in my thoughts I hadn’t noticed that we’d pulled into the parking lot of the small ice cream parlor I so adored. I found it peculiar that it seemed she hadn’t noticed either. She remained blankly staring out the window, car parked, and her face void of all expression. I reminded her of our purpose and she exited the car with me. We marched onward as I was dutifully searching for an empty table amongst a sea of others seemingly doing the same. I spotted one not too far away and I went to claim it with a jacket as my aunt excused herself to the bathroom. I waited at the table for what seemed like days for her to come back but she didn’t. After a short eternity I got up in search of her but she was nowhere to be seen. I felt as if I had searched in every possible location before I remembered the bathroom. I knocked upon the door but to no response. I waited for a moment and before I could knock again I heard a delicate sobbing coming from inside. I dreadingly pushed open the door and found my aunt lying broken on the ground before me. Tears freely flowing from her eyes and a shattered expression plastered onto her face. I had finally realized what was happening. The full brute force of the situation hit me like a shotgun blast to the chest. She really was dying. It was then when I realized the truth about the world. No one is immortal. And everybody dies.