Number 2120

Joseph stood looking through a glass window at a little baby boy laying in a small new born bed labeled "Number 2120".

"This child," thought Joseph, "born December 12, 2012 at 3 p.m. is a miracle." He wondered what this meant.

"Signs and wonders," Joseph said out loud to no one in particular.

"What?" said Henry. Henry was the child's father. Henry also happened to be Joseph's wife's new found affair. It didn't bother Joseph because he loved his wife and accepted this child as part of his family.

"Nothing. Just thinking aloud." Joseph said as a side note.

"You're fuck'n weird." Henry admitted.

"Yeah. I know. Diane has mentioned it before." Joseph was staring intently through the window.

Joseph walked away down the hallway. He walked down through the stairwell to the bottom level occasionally looking down the spiraling empty space. The large glass emergency doors slid open at his approach and he walked out into the grey abyss that is a Chicago winter.

Joseph heard the screeching brakes before he felt the pain of the ambulance running over him. The light started drifting away and he thought haphazardly, "It's true, the end is today. I never thought I would..."

There were shifting spheres of low light and then nothing.