So much Pierre had yet to do despite twenty-eight years on this planet.
The to-dos came to him in threes (usually after his morning bowel movement). He didn’t know why they interrupted whatever thought he was having at the time, or why they did so in that particular number, but he kept a list on his phone app, and decided he needed to complete each task.
He’d had acute myeloid leukemia. His doctor put his chances of surviving the stem cell transplant at 70%, his chances of finding a perfect match donor also 70%. Multiplied together, Pierre’s probability of survival at that moment was just 49%.
“Fifty-fifty. Isn’t that everyone’s odds every day?” Pierre asked.
The doctor chuckled and later apologized for doing so.
Two years later, Pierre was still here. He’d recovered and now had an unknown number of years to do everything he’d ever wanted to do with his life. The only problem: he’d never kept a bucket list, never even considered death until the doctor kept uttering phrases like “life-threatening condition” and “you can die from” blah-blah-blah (spoiler: just about anything and everything). But now the list was making itself, like a divine revelation.
Pierre packed a sizable backpack and set off to complete his first list.
- Make a black friend
- Fire a gun
- Learn to drive stick
Read the rest of the story at Maudlin House.