Microfiction Monday: The Gray

The Gray

My face feels hot. I grab at my hair. Place my trembling hands on the table. Lay my head on the table. Stand up, dizzy. I am aware of my beating heart. I can’t tell if it’s too fast or too slow. My neck is a headache supporting my skull. I should call someone, but I can’t even say help. One leg trembles. It will give out soon. I fall into the gray, dying.

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