the hospital wards
frederic ozanam's sunday
Dec 13
The youths lounged about there on the dry seat, and every now and then one of them would quietly jack up a piece of sticky phlegm in his throat and lob it onto the back of her coat.
Down it went, and up he stood trying to negate the damage - It crackled he said, and I could hear the flesh tearing. Good old dave, always one for histrionics when faced with an immediate dismemberment.