a single tear escapes his eye.

some of it evaporates,

some is absorbed by his pillow, and the rest

is a thin encrustation of salt.

..

his grip on the bedrail is weak.

the rail feels like the javelin

he wielded and hurled 70 years ago.

he can still remember the moment of release,

that perfect throw with all his muscles in sync,

and the certainty in that moment that his javelin

would sail beyond all others.

his suffering is eased by that memory.

..

minutes later he is not suffering at all

as a telemetric line streams across a screen

like a javelin hurled into the Infinite.