bites. gnaws and grinds. stiffening sinews grow taut and ring, quivering and humming as they strum like a harp. touch becomes tangled. signals cross. what was once brush becomes tingle and buzz. what was once pain becomes wakeful awareness. The air sinks deep, into the skin. no longer a sensation, air becomes emotion, too deep to be feeling, too hard to be me. the ache grows stronger. Thoughts and actions combine into aught. the fingers are weakened. sinews once taut freeze in an instant. a thrashing of panic and then…

Snap. the sinew uncurls, shards scattered to the winds. the fingers slacken. the air flees. skin becomes solid and the hand pulsates. The sinking air thrashes to the surface like a drowning dog, tail flapping and jaw slack. skin crawls like beetles on a hot corpse, but heat is not here. Ice encases bones. Skin is left raw. Cold permeates all. Release comes to none.