People live as they breathe and die as they lived. So did Tiffany. Tiffany lived as she breathed and died as she lived while living as she died.

Yes, it was a bit convoluted, but Tiffany thought it was fine. Living in a constant state of life-death Schrodinger style didn’t hurt. She was just a little more absent-minded, had days where she was more dead than alive and days where she was more alive than dead, s’all.

Tiffany was fine. She had her books and the Internet for when she was bored. Maybe her friends were all strangers, but it was fine; it was the age of the Internet, after all.

So Tiffany was fine. She lived as she breathed and died as she lived while dying at each breath. It wasn’t her fault the doctors stayed away when they came. It wasn’t her fault her cactus (the tenth this month) rotted away on her desk.

She was fine. The doctors might keep her in a big metal box with no windows and no life to live by or to breathe by or to die by, but she had her books and the Internet so everything was fine.

Tiffany was fine, living-dying as she cooked and took care of her eleventh cactus and talked to strangers on the Internet.

Tiffany was alive.

Tiffany was dead.