 Who Am I? Ern's 2460FUN
The boy was being handled, jostled by faces that might have been dear to him once, as the violent surges of sound invaded his head. He didn’t bother fighting the attending hands. They were doing less harm than the noise. No matter how much he pressed his nose into his knees or clutched at his ears, as if the pressure could quiet the world once more, the sounds didn’t relent. Crying. Shouting. Explosions.
It hurt.
The makeshift tent was barely more than a flimsy curtain between the boy and the world. It didn’t ease the noise or truly protect him.
As he scrambled for something to hold onto, something that might mean something at the end, he felt someone take his hand and squeeze. The boy squeezed back.
__________________  |