“I am really tired today.”

“Hello young man. Tired? Well, what time did you go to sleep?”

“A bit after 8.”

“That’s early.”

“Yeah. I just woke up.”

“You slept that long and you are still tired?”

“Yep.”

“That is pretty normal around here. Are you sick to your stomach?”

“Not anymore than usual.”

“That is a good thing. Was years before I was not throwing up after every meal. I think I just had to get so tired that my body didn’t have enough energy to convulse.”

“Are you scared?”

“Not really. Had a long time to think about it. You?”

“Sometimes yeah. I feel like I am pulled between wanting to fight and wanting the symptoms to stop. But I never want it to end.”

“You will get there. We all get to know the worst parts of ourselves here.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I am setting some records. You?”

“A week ago I had an upset stomach. Today I am here.”

“No wonder you are scared.”

“I heard there is only one way out of this place.”

“You looking for hope kid? I have never seen anybody leave out the front, but there stuff like that cannot last forever and it hasn’t happened for sure in a really long time.”

“Thanks for trying.”

“Why don’t you lie down for a while?”

“I can’t. I can’t sleep unless my dad sings me a song. He always sings me a song so I can go to sleep.”

“You wait up for him then. Keep doing that sort of stuff. It might be the only thing that reminds you that you are still alive.”

“Yeah. I am still alive, but for how long.”

“Nobody can say that for certain.”

“My doctor gave me 4 to 6 weeks.”

“That is tough. Mine told me 2 to 3 weeks.”

“I’ll race you?”

“What?”

“I will race you. First one out of here wins.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.”

“I always used to race my friends. You want to be my friend.”

“Sure.”

“Then I’ll race you.”

“I don’t know if I am comfortable with that.”

“What do we have to loose? Come on. I’ll race you.”

“Okay kid. I’ll race you. What are we wagering?”

“I will wager my Dwayne Wade basketball card. You?”

“I have a baseball card from when I was a kid. I will wager that.”

“Sweet. First one out of this place gives his card to the other. I will make sure to tell my dad. Who can you tell?”

“I don’t have anyone to tell son. Maybe you should hold on to both of them just in case.”

The old man stumbled away and shortly returned carrying a wooden box in his hands.

“Here you are son. Don’t keep it here though. Send it home with your dad.”

“Why?”

“Look at the card.”

The box’s hinges creaked.

“Who is Babe Ruth?”

“Well, how would you like it if I told you a story?”

“I would like that a lot.”

“Good. Now climb into your bed and I will tell you about the birth of baseball and the greatest player who ever played the game.”