Sitting in the chill dark, rough concrete walls closing in, ornamented with forgotten spiderwebs and fallen splinters from the roof above.

The jacket; old, coarse, but warm.

Warm enough.

The nose, running slightly as the sharp chill cuts through the nasal passages.

The speakers hidden, mumbling ghostly pop tunes to no one.

The fingers, almost numb, barely working, but feverish. Unable to stop. Frightened. Clicking like so many birds.

Everbody gone, gone beyond, before, ahead. Gone.

Throat dry, squeezed shut and unnecissary.

A pain, a dull yanking pain where no pain should be in the only kidney left.

On the lower right hind side, a dull aching pain echoed by a dull aching fear.

What if...

Before&After