Smoke shadows lungs in thick phlegm. Breath comes hard against the esophagus with a rough cough. A nose runs busy in the night. Sleep breaks half past four. Eyes search LEDs for time. Sheep hit the fence instead of jumping. Rolls of paper towel crumple against nostrils which become one way exits. The man works, sick in bed.


4 comments so far

  1. SandyCarlson on

    I so know that kind of night! Well done.

  2. Deborah Godin on

    I want to feel honest sympathy for someone with such a bad cold, but I’m laughing too hard over the sheep hitting the fence!!

  3. Tumblewords on

    ouch. Poor soul. Good work!

  4. Raven on

    Poor soul. I love the sheep hitting the fence.

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