You are lying on the wet soil, muttering “such a trifle.” You can’t feel the wound in the gray white holes any more. Your right eye hurts because dirt got into it. Blinking several times, you think all these perceptions of pain are too weak. You mutter a prayer over and over again to no specific god that you may not recover from whatever you’re suffering now, that the cold soil may become even colder so that your face and body are frozen hard, and that you never get up again.
Source: Goodreads
