Short Story: My Feet Are Cold.

Short Story: My Feet Are Cold.

My feet are cold. - It's winter. -I'm bored even though I am surrounded by flowers; - I've arranged them, rearranged them, - looked at them, - studied them, - rejoiced in their beauty. - I look back at them regularly because - they're lovely. - Otherwise I'm alone, - and bored.

My feet are cold. - I've read my books, - I've tried to sleep; - too much sleep gives me a headache. - I've sat up, - I've laid down, - I've turned over, - at least I can do these things, - but it's boring...

My feet are very cold. Maybe I'll write something, - if my hands aren't too cold. - Maybe I'll get some visitors today? - Maybe the sun will come out? - Maybe the nurse will take me for a ride in my wheelchair? -It's a long day, - every day. - Maybe I'll be better soon? . . . My feet are so, so cold, - strange, because I have no legs...