Riddled with it, he was.
The doctors hadn't quite put it like that, but he knew.
He'd come to the reservoir to end it himself, on his terms.
He actually had the pistol in his mouth when he heard the voice behind him.
'Why are you doing that?' the small girl asked, sweetly.
Morris explained his disease, his pain. Why he was killing himself.
'Can I do it for you?' she asked, squinting in the afternoon sunlight.
Morris, taken aback, asked why she should want to do such a thing.
'I've always wanted to kill a man' she replied, smiling.