THE CHATTERING NEWS
Grace sat in the sterile, white room of the oncology ward. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem of her sweater as she waited for the doctor to speak. The silence felt like it stretched for hours, though it had only been a few seconds.
"I'm afraid it's cancer," Dr. Whitman said gently, his voice heavy with sympathy.
The words hit her like a freight train. Grace blinked, staring at the doctor's lips as if she had misheard him.
"Stage four," he continued. "It's aggressive, and… I won't sugarcoat this. Without treatment, we're looking at about a year. With treatment… maybe a little more."
She swallowed hard. "A year?" Her voice cracked, the weight of the words pressing down on her chest.
nodded, his face kind but solemn. "I'm so sorry, Grace."
Grace walked out of the hospital in a daze. The late autumn air was brisk, but she barely noticed the chill. The sound of cars, people chatting, and birds chirping all blurred into a distant hum.
A year. That's all she had.
She thought of the books she hadn't read, the places she hadn't visited, and the dreams she had put off for "someday." Someday wasn't coming anymore.
That night, Grace lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Sleep felt impossible as the weight of her mortality pressed against her chest. She thought of her parents, her best friend Amelia, and how she'd have to break the news to them.
But most of all, she thought of the life she had yet to live.
The following morning, Grace sat by the window of her tiny apartment, sipping lukewarm tea. She didn't know where to start. Should she research treatments? Plan her funeral?
Instead, she grabbed a notebook and wrote three words at the top of the page: "What do I want?"
The list started small:
* Spend more time with family.
* Watch the sunrise from a mountain.
*Try a fancy dinner at least once.
But as the minutes passed, it grew bolder:
* Fall in love.
* Dance in the rain.
* Leave a legacy.
She stared at the last line, her pen hovering. What kind of legacy could someone like her leave behind in a year?