The First Day

He stood there, eyes scanning the audience. Clearly, they were starting to get agitated. What began as silent whispers, were increasing to murmurs and even then, these were beginning to punctuate the air around him. The chairperson was trying to get control of the audience, like reeling a thrashing bull at the end of tether.
His attention was suddenly diverted to the buzzing of his mobile.
"They're wheeling her in", the voice inside the phone said. The blood drained from his head, down his chest, leaving a tingle on his skin; he became aware of the sudden pounding of his chest. Each breath became difficult, as if a burden was placed on his chest.
He felt a sudden need to sit down, his focus clearly lost from the crowd onto his beating heart.
The surgery!
He was no longer present in his surroundings, as everything began to move slowly. The discussions around him bore no meaning, every look, every question directed at him meant nothing. His present melted away, fused into a grey, murmuring background, as his mind began to wander into the past.
She had stood in front of him, twirling her car keys in her hands, hesitant. It was already late, and he had brushed her words aside, telling her to hurry home. When she drove off, he had gotten into his car and driven off, too; and, instead of the customary phone call to keep her company during the drive home, he had opted to not to call, instead, he drove slowly, silently with his thoughts to himself.
The next day, he had found a long message waiting for him; it said,"I wish you could have the time to let me tell you all the things at the back of my mind," and the message had ended with,"..I wish you could be the last thing my eyes would see when they take me in, and the first when they open again..."
And he had then promised himself that he would be there, and if not physically, he would call her, for if not for anything else, to let her know that he was thinking of her, and that for every conscious moment, she was all that he'd ever think off.
And, as questions from the audience yanked him away from the past back into the present, it dawned that the surgery was real, as was the risk of something going wrong; he may never see her again, in one selfish moment, he had given up the chance to let her know how deeply he had felt about her.
And, as his eyes focused on the expectant faces, waiting for his answer, to the questions he did not hear, his heart became empty, the passion for life extinguished, and the realization that once again, he had let himself down, and, with it, began his spiral into self destruction and despair.