There were no doctors in the end, nor morphine or cream to soothe their rashes.
Even the janitor wouldn’t walk within six feet of the beds in which they lay.
They shared a room; two strangers, united in their fate, withering further with every cough.
“You an addict too or…?” one questioned.
“Dancer,” the other winced.
A mutual judgement lingered in the silence that followed.
“Well,” the addict said, “Must’ve been one hell of a dance to do that.”
And though they never saw it, that day, the world took a wary step closer.
About the Creator
Excellent work. Looking forward to reading more!
Compelling and original writing
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Original narrative & well developed characters