In front of the hospital, by the revolving doors, sits a man.<\/p>\n

The brown, tanned stump of one of his legs is visible beneath his hospital gown, and a small tower of IV’s and various bags of fluid loom over him. It’s a hot, gritty day, and he stares blankly across the street at a Tim Horton’s, indifferent to the people passing by. He doesn’t care what anybody thinks of him. These are almost certainly amongst his last days. He has a large bottle of Jack Daniels he’s taking hits\u00a0from, and this seems some manner of providence, as if a last wish granted.<\/span><\/p>\n