He was a person who spoke his mind, but he still tried to fit in. And he felt boxed in, suffocating beneath the pillow of the in crowd.
So one cold winter day he walked out onto the frozen lake and just stood there as he questioned his existence. There was a slight crackle and then a tremor. He went under. He could feel the blood in his veins turning to ice as his breath slowly slipped away.
So this was how it felt to die, he thought, but how did it feel to live. “I don’t wanna die,” he said, trying to fight his way to the top.
Too late.
He died.
But his dream ended.
And life came out of its sleep.
Woman Write Two 