Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Filthy Pig

He wakes up with a jolt and wipes the sweat off his brow. He reckons it was cough roughly ten miles away that woke him up form his normally hefty slumber. Was it a dream? Or was it really there? He wastes no time pondering upon these issues, neither does he raise any more. Jumping off his bed, he bolts out the door, away form the source of the sound.

He runs as fast as his legs can carry him, all the while confident that his every move is being tracked. He continues running. He knows it's gaining on him, and all of a sudden his chest clenches. He's nearly sure it's here. A sneeze. Affirmative.

Anxiety takes the chequered flag, and kills him. The virus, it turns out, had to exit soon after it started, due to technical difficulties.