Tidbit #3

He sucked in a breath to yell out, in the hopes that someone either inside the mall or walking back to their car would hear him, but the moment he drew in breath it was pushed back out of him, as if his lungs would no longer accept the oxygen they so desperately needed. He rasped helplessly on the concrete for someone to help him, but there was no one around to hear his struggle, and no one to watch him die.

As what little Jacob could see faded from view and the last inch of his life dwindled away, he was overtaken by a strange feeling that the world he was in was less tangible than it had seemed to be only moments earlier.

He became calm, acceptant of the fact that he could no longer breathe and that he was going to die. Then, suddenly, as if responding to his thoughts, his pain subsided and he felt better. Breath had entered into him through a different means, and he felt that he was safe and warm.

Some rogue thought entered into his mind and reminded him that everything was okay. His sense of touch started to return and he felt something soft against his skin, his head cradled by something plush and warm. He was breathing again.

And then there was the smallest sensation of light against his eyelids that quickly grew in intensity. His eyes fluttered open and he squinted, sunlight pouring in from the crack in the curtains on his bedroom window.

Home.

He breathed deep and closed his eyes again. His dreams had rarely been so realistic, or so frightening. He tried to remember what day it was and if he had really needed to go to the airport at all, or if that had all been the machinations of his dream.

His muscles responded to him when he tried to move them, although wearily. Just the fact that he was able to sit himself up eased his mind.

The bedroom was a mess. For weeks he had been meaning to clean up, but he could never seem to find the time to do so, never willing to give up any of his time for anymore work than he was forced to. It was ironic really, and something he was sure he would be looked down on for if any of his co-workers were to see the state of his home. He had one of the most high-tension, high responsibility jobs in the company, and yet he couldn’t seem to get a handle on the growing mess in his house.

He swivelled his torso so that his feet hit the floor and creakily stood up and left the bedroom.

After he had showered and dressed himself, he set about making a cup of coffee, only to be interrupted by the phone ringing.

“Jacob,” said a female voice on the other end of the phone. “Are you up?”

“Yeah,” he croaked, not having found his voice yet this morning.

“All right, good,” Dana said. “Your flight is in four hours. Make sure you don’t miss it.”

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