(no subject)
It's cold, and the wind's howling out there like a sumbitch, and Ennis Del Mar finds himself caught up in the thin sheet, tossing and turning until he's wrapped like a mummy and panicking, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. He cries out and manages to free an arm, punching into the air-
not the air. A person.
not the air. A person.