In silence, we sat, in silence.
He played with the hem of his grey shirt and looked down. I felt a pang of injustice as the intoxicating blue eyes were not in sight anymore.
He sat in my dungeon.
The dungeon I had questionably remained sane in for many years and now he was in it.
What had he?
I lay down with my back facing the low ceiling and I smelt the concrete. The earthy smell was disgusting and repulsive but the familiarity sang me to a troubled and disturbed sleep.
He watched the whole night as I slept.
YOU ARE READING
200 DAYS
Science FictionI was never afraid of death. I couldn't be. How could I be afraid of it when I'm as good as dead?
