"...water..."
A sick old man managed to say, as his figure was bound to his bed. His skin was rotting away and he was all but bones. He called out once again, this time like a question.
"Water...?"
As if to probe whether someone was there or not. He should have a caretaker accompany him at all times...so where was the caretaker now?
'sigh...'
The old man sighed, thinking the caretaker may have gone to the bathroom or something, he decided to wait.
But after an hour, he was wondering where his caretaker was. He didn't think he was still taking a shit in the bathroom.
"May the lord bless me with strength."
He managed to say, as he moved his head to stare at the glass of water which had a straw in it.
He moved his blanket to try to get it, but all of a sudden, the straw was brought close to him, so he could finally drink.
"Thank you."
