It started with one of us having a sniffle. Then, we all had it. But, it wouldn't go away. Soon we were all wrapped up in blankets, sweating buckets of sickness, and drinking one of Mom's end-all-cure-all home remedies. She had zero medical training. Always thought she could cure everything except death. But, it felt like that's where we were headed.
We were much to sick to go out and doctors refused to come to us. That's when Dad covered the windows. They were convinced the slightest thing would take us out.
Whatever we had, it was beginning to affect our sight, making it hard for us to see. How could I live without ever seeing this view again--this world?
Yet, and still, this was coming fast, stealing our strength--our very breath. Would someone come? Would someone save us? I don't know if we have five days or five minutes. Could you imagine that? He looked around the cramped apartment at his family--struggling to hold on. His father was stretched out on the floor, laying on his side, clinging to a pillow he'd shoved close to his stomach to help with the pain. His brother was close to their father, coughing, taking short gasps, struggling to breathe. His mother stood over the over, desperately trying to come up with something to save her family, pushing through the pain that kept her in tears for the past few days. We don't have long. Soon, it'll be over and I needed to see this view once more before it was completely gone.