Tuesday, December 20, 2016

100 Words a Day 974

The pain in his chest made him writhe. He shut his eyes against the thing making his fingers and toes spasm. Attempts at slow, even breathing failed. At best, they momentarily replaced the ache with a cauterizing chill. Then it was back to misery. He lay on his bed, able but unwilling to rise. Instead, he rubbed his head with his hands while his back curled and straightened.


Intermittently, the emotional pain and physical spasms gave way to periods of flaccidity where his body would lie as though dead. They never lasted. The stinging pangs in his heart always returned.

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