His nose let out a labored air, and the sound should have been produced by a stomach thirsty for something deliciously hot.
And then in no time I was sure I was sensing the same thick black fluid getting into him slowly but surely.
It smoked like from a chimney, his mouth, and from his throat I could still hear it going down and down somewhere behind his chest, and then to his stomach.
I was a child then, but my mind could picture it out clearly.
YOU ARE READING
The Man I Thought Who Can't Appreciate Beauty
Short StoryA boy's story with a dying old man.