Passing out.

    The man standing in the door way is very old. his head empty of hair except by his ears. his face, where not covered by whiskers, is covered in wrinkles.

    I hear the old man begin to say something, but his words are lost to white noise. the warm light coming from inside his home blurs and suddenly i see the floor.

    shadows dance in my face as my surroundings change, i feel warm. every time i blink the darkness of the night gets brighter. my head throbs, my stomach aches. i hope this madness ends soon.

The End

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