Gazza430

Look. I'll tell it like it was. black. cold. wretched. Static clung to the air like ornaments on a Christmas tree and we were graced with the odd arced lightning. Oh, it was cold. so cold. I remember not seeing, my fingers frozen off as feeling receded from them like waves on a beach. how could I even be sure they were. still. there? the forgotten memory of a sunset lay imprinted on my brain, and its absence made the night emptier than ever. we waited. we waited for the moon to rise, for the clouds to shift, for the e-lec-tri-ci-ty to stop (like lost travelers stumbling in the desert waiting for an oasis mir