Saturday, February 19, 2011

What-to-name-it -3

This story will have a cold ending.

It was a couple of hours after sunrise. His hands were frantically moving in random directions, his face had the weirdest expression. He could hear his mom screaming from a distance but couldn't quite figure out what she was speaking. His eyes were bloodshot. Suddenly pristine white froth started coming out of his mouth. None was around. The screaming continued, the froth ceased. His hands came to a rest. He could hear what she was screaming. The coffee was turning cold.