new flash fiction, (c) 2012 by C. N. Nevets
I could hardly breathe, the air was so thick with rot. I could hardly hear my own voice as I sang, the air was so blanketed by tinks and clatters. I could hardly see, the air was so interlaced by a web of smoke. I could hardly think.
Then door opened.
A breeze drifted in.
The sun light dripped in.
A touch of rain drizzled in.
Then the smoke cleared. The clamor quieted. The air became gradually fresher.
But I can’t remember how to think.