.__.

My grandfather once told me our lives are like a dot, a dash, and a dot. ".__." typed or written to paper it looks kinda funny, but the meaning is much more somber. The first dot represents our birth, the dash represents our lives, the final period being the end of the line; death. My grandfather is nearing the final dot, that dumb dot that will take him away from us; steal him from his loving family that so desperately wishes his anecdotes, stories, toe popping, and tickle attacks would never end. But for some reason that dot doesn't care, it takes and it takes and it takes, with no regard to anyone or anything. This gluttonous dot doesn't care that those nearing his lair can feel it in their bones, that their loved ones can see the strain his pull exerts on their souls.