Exerpt
He had written slowly. The days are long, like an eternity of blistering night.The soft black leather chair had clung to his ruffled unbuttoned shirt revealing his unshaven perspiring chest. And his fingers had thumbed nervously at the quivering pen. The darkness grows deeper, an oasis without an end. The lights grow dimmer ever so often plunging me into blissful sleep. I long to sleep…to dream. He exhaled gruffly warm stale breath into the cold night air. read more
