the world is flat

True, I've seen the photos.  What we call Earth is a bluish globe, hanging in the darkness, and definitely roundish.  But in me is my grandfather's distrust of scientific achievements.  When humans started shooting themselves into space and photographing their trip, he still confidently commented:  "It's only a movie."

Because nothing in his experience taught him otherwise.

So I assert that the world is flat.  This is my experience, because right now Rich is not going 'round and 'round in expectation of returning to the same place.  He's falling off the edge.

Which doesn't fit.  I sometimes described Rich as the sort of person who, if he decided to take a one-year trip around the world, and said he would return at 5 p.m. on May 22, and I said:  "Oh, by the way, pick up a couple of bagels on your way home," I knew by 4:45 on May 22 to have the butter and cream cheese ready.

Because Rich keeps his word, always, and will always come home.

But not now.  I'm afraid as I watch him approaching the edge, and as he slides faster and faster I want to kill the bastard who's pouring the grease making his path slicker and slicker -- but, of course, there's no one there.

What I do see is Rich's heartbeat beating too fast, probably because of the antibiotic which, both of us are still convinced, may not be at all necessary.  And I see progressing weakness in his leg, pains in his neck and arm, shortness of breath, and some of it (probably most, at this point) is caused by the drugs that will "save" him.

I don't see the edge, not yet (is that because my eyes are closed?) 

But I whisper, "it's only a movie...it's only a movie..." 

Candace