He was agitated. His foot tapping furiously on the floor. Sweat beads racing down his face as he looked up nervously at the giant clock in front of him. Quarter to two. His time is almost up, if he doesn’t think of something now it’ll be too late!
He looked around him for support but everyone was looking at him with disdain.
He grabbed the armrest with shaking sweaty hands and slowly got up. The door is right in front of him, completely open!
“Mr Swanson, the doctor is ready for you now”
It’s too late. The needle is coming
About the Creator
Mo Darasi
I write fiction, poetry and occasional articles about interesting topics.
Finding interesting ways to write a poem or hide messages within them seems to be my main interesting in writing now, and it's been fun
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