Start Fiction:
The room felt smaller, tighter around Paul. The tips of his ears, his forehead, his scalp began to burn. He took quick, short deep breaths. He looked out the window as dusk fell on the horizon, out at the open space, the air, the freedom.
He sat up, leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. Paul rubbed his head, trying to control his breathing, catch his breath. He looked to the window again; a fleeting sense of calm came over and through him. Paul tried to stand; his legs shook, a his fever intensified, a slight sweat covered his brow.
The door was only twenty feet. Paul shook as he stepped, almost dragging his feet. His chest pounded, hands clammy, sweaty, mouth cotton dry. A quick look to the window; another quick sense of calm. Two more steps. Hand in the knob, turn; the door weighed a ton, Paul struggled, gasping for air.
He began to wedge himself through the half open door. The outside air cooled his burning forehead, a slight chill. Paul took a deep breath; his lungs flooded with fresh air, rushing to his head. It got dark; Paul felt pain on the side of his face.
The sounds of the neighborhood dogs faded, giving way to a constant ringing. Paul didn't care, he wasn't concerned; he was outside, free.
End Fiction.
Too short...
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