The Writers' Circle

I don't know how long it's been now, how long I have waited for it to be over.
I was told it should be less than an hour but that was over three hours ago
My breathing is slow; I can feel each breathe as it extends my lungs, in and out, slowly marking the passage of time.
There where four of us to start, now down to the final two.
I slowly turn my head to look at him; I don't even know his name.
It doesn't seem worth starting a conversation now.
He doesn't move, he breathes like me, slowly. 
Sadness in his eyes tells of regret, of things that should have been done, of things that should have happened but due to one choice or another never did.
I watch as a nurse walks past the door, not stopping to look in or offer support.
She pushes a trolley of food, the smell of coffee wafts in, none for us.
Not worth it I guess, it can't be long now, god I hope it's not long to wait.
I can feel my dry lips, the heat in the hospital doesn't help at all, I slowly lick my lips, swallowing hard from lack of saliva.
It's been just me and him now for twenty minutes, twenty minutes since we lost the last one. I watched him go, envious that his time had come, wishing I could swap places with him, to take that journey.
I sigh, prolonging my outward breath until my lungs burn, forcing it from my mouth before taking a deep breath back in again.
I try to recall happy times, holidays or birthdays but the noise in the hospital around me stops me from getting there.
No happy place for me, no sweet memories to rush the time onwards.
Just the slow ticking of the clock that slices my life into little pieces as it kills me slowly.
My unknown friend groans inwardly to himself before falling silent again.
I wonder who will be first, him or me. He isn't that much older than me.
Unshaven, with large bags under his eyes, but like me he won't sleep, not now, not this close.
A nurse calls to another, shouting about tooth brushes. Such a waste of their lives, trivial things should not be allowed, life is too precious, time is too important to waste.
I realise I can't feel my feet; there is no sensation there anymore.
I wonder if I should tell a nurse but stop myself, what's the point; there isn't anything they can do now, leave them to their tooth brushes and patients.
I wonder what the weather is like and what is going on outside, I wonder what I am missing and who is missing me.
The sadness is that no one is missing me; no one has even noticed I am missing.
It saddens me to think that for all the people I have met, for all the people I have shared moments with, drank beer with or kissed, it's down to just me and him, my unknown friend.
I see him looking at me, I try to smile but he looks away, his eyes almost closing.
I bet it's him first, lucky bastard, I bet I'm left alone.
I will be alone in the drably decorated room, alone with the clinical smell of hospitals and the muttering or nurses.
My legs are numb now, there is a tingling in my toes as I move them.
I feel drained, tired beyond measure.
No one should be left like this, it's not human, it's not right.
I feel myself nodding, my head drops to my chest and I pull it back again only to feel it drop again a few seconds after.
Behind my eyes I can see a light, a garden, beautiful and green.
A garden I haven't seen for many years, the garden of my youth.
I sense movement and a hand rests on my shoulder.
It's time.
It's finally time.
I'm not last.

I open my eyes.
"Time to go dear" my wife says.
"Doctors done now, sorry It took a while, they needed to take some blood"
I nod to her. Pulling myself to my feet I smile at the man waiting as I leave.
At least I'm not last