Is This It

so i'm stuck at home because this guy jumped off a building and his blood that ran with HIV and the hepatitis alphabet got on my face and in my mouth. The cocktail isn't as bad as it used to be, people keep telling me. I've had no side effects really, so basically I just don't have to go to work until after the 30th when I go back to the Department doctor.

The whole story is quite odd.

He was 65 - jumped from the 4th floor of a nursing home.

I could describe it further, but I'll save that for not the Internet. Besides, I think the basics say a lot on their own. Since I know no more, all that's left is in the imagination. How did he break the window? What did it look like? Were other people in the room? What happened in the 15 minutes before? Why? Why did he decide to jump? How many friends and family did he leave behind? Did they know this was a possibility?

These are things I'll never know, and with time what I have imagined will become increasingly less clear. Like any death, most of its details become lost and only the fact itself remains. And isn't this for the best? The details are part of dying, but are so unromantic in reality. They are raw and off-putting and sometimes shocking. This is for the best.

This isn't even what I intended to write about, but it's what happened.