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Weekly Contest #317
One month, it’d started. Then, three. Six. At last, one year.Wind buffeted against windows, muffled by drooping curtains. The thick blanket enveloped Oskar in a fragile warmth, though pinpricks of coldness gnawed at his fingertips. A sigh danced upon his lips.Every night, it was the same. The icy sweats, his parched mouth, the trembling in his muscles and the pain grinding against his skull. He’d toss and turn, he’d clutch the blanket, he’d suck in slow and steady breaths that quaked his chest. Sometimes, he’d get up and head into the bathro...
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