This morning I woke up and my nose itched. A poor imitation of sunlight filtered through the blinds and hit my eyes. That sickly yellow light, the dust motes, and damp air travelled through my nasal passages and into my head. I looked up to see that the ceiling had grown a black beard overnight. It was shedding mould spores which danced a merry jig up my nose.
I rolled over onto my side and tried to breathe out of my mouthe. Gulping, goldfish-like, starved of air. A thousand tiny insects still scribbled inside me.
I was in a state of total discomfort, yet too lazy to get up and leave the bed.
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