Weeks to Live

Simon liked to ride his motorcycle. The feel of the wind in his long hair and on his face. He never wore a helmet, defying the statistics. Weaving between cars on the freeway, charging around lines to run through red lights: you could say he had a death wish, but you would be wrong. He was 28 and had been carrying around a terminal brain tumor for 13 years. So much for the doctors giving him only weeks to live, refusing him treatment because there was no chance for survival. That was how he was going to die.