The first week comes and goes seamlessly, as it nearly always does.
He puts forth the exact same inquiries today as last time, as they often do.
Because it brings comfort to fill space, prolong time,
Skirt the sinister suppositions slithering through his mind.
The real question burns silently in his throat, keeps him lying awake, pondering:
His family, his finances, his failures, his fate.
Hoping to evade the answer, for the day it comes,
It will be too late.