Dead

[lostfiles]

DEAD | When the kettle on the stove boiled and the steam rose up he ran a hand through the vapours. It did not burn; his move was not slow to draw out pain and scold, nor was it fast, unfeeling and absent. He felt it as warmth. It tingled as droplets condensed on his skin and became dampness. I think that this is what it feels like to be a ghost and pass fair well through the wall, he thought, not a cold death, not frozen and inanimate: warm, moving. He touched the wall but his hand did not go through.