The Faded River
The hum of the ventilator is a constant. It is a white noise. It fills the sterile air of the isolation ward. You breathe with it. You breathe against it. Your lungs are foreign objects. They are mechanical bellows. They expand. They contract. The rhythm is precise. It is mathematical. It is cold. You are aware of your body as a system. You are aware of the failure. The pressure gauges on the...
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