Living Death
“Come on, Gerry! Wake up, boy! You can’t sleep all day!’ He opened his eyes. He saw a middle-aged woman with chaotic hair, grinning at him. He looked all around him and saw that he was lying in a room with pale green walls. No pictures, only pale green walls. A yellowish blind was drawn halfway down the window and he could hear that it was raining outside, and see raindrops dancing on the windowsill.
His brain felt as if it had turned into cotton wool. He couldn’t think where he was, or why he w...as here. He couldn’t even remember what his name was. He was aware of a dull throbbing pain in his lower right leg, below the knee, but it was a distant pain, almost as if his right leg belonged to somebody else, and he was feeling the pain sympathetically.
‘Where – where the feck am I?’ he said, slurrily. Even his lips felt as if they belonged to somebody else.
‘You’re in St Giles’ Clinic, don’t you remember?’ ‘No. I don’t. And who the feck are you?’ ‘Oh get away with you, Gerry.MoreLess
His brain felt as if it had turned into cotton wool. He couldn’t think where he was, or why he w...as here. He couldn’t even remember what his name was. He was aware of a dull throbbing pain in his lower right leg, below the knee, but it was a distant pain, almost as if his right leg belonged to somebody else, and he was feeling the pain sympathetically.
‘Where – where the feck am I?’ he said, slurrily. Even his lips felt as if they belonged to somebody else.
‘You’re in St Giles’ Clinic, don’t you remember?’ ‘No. I don’t. And who the feck are you?’ ‘Oh get away with you, Gerry.MoreLess
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