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Weekly Contest #372
Schmidt awoke, his pyjamas clammy with sweat, his pillow damp beneath him. He glanced at the alarm clock. It was only ten o’clock. Dazed, he got up to fetch a glass of water. The water bored him with its bland flavour of rusty pipes and limescale-choked filters. He was just about to climb back into bed when he felt a faint pressure in his chest. His father had died of a heart attack, and Schmidt knew, pressure in the chest was always a warning sign. He checked whether his arm felt strange, and the longer he searched his body for symptoms, th...
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