"I'm dying, Mel, but I've still got a few more stories I need to tell," he said during our first telephone conversation. My friend was confined to a wheelchair, but I really didn't have any idea how confined. We'd been texting off and on for about a month. He'd shared a story with me that I really liked and I wondered if I could read more. We started talking about writing every other evening, sometimes for two or more hours. I could tell the talking was making him tired, but he seemed to enjoy it.
