Last 10 Minutes

In November in the north, the wind is cold and bleak. Although the first snow has not yet arrived, the cold air is already filling from outside to inside. The room was quiet, only the whistling of the wind outside the window could be heard, occasionally mixed with a few whistles. I was lying on the bed, in a daze, and my old eyelids could hardly be raised. I don't know why, even though the heater was on day and night in late November, I still felt cold, even though I was still lying in a thick velvet quilt. I want to sit up as usual, light a cigarette, and brew a cup of instant coffee. For a person like me, that's probably all I can do with my decency. But no matter how I moved, with all my strength, my arm wouldn't move at all. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.