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016. Sob

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Peter hadn’t expected to cry, even after the day he’d had. Why bother? It wasn’t the end of the world; he would know world-ending proportions when he saw them. It was just a miserable time in the most mundane of ways.

The heater going out. A failing grade. Missing May. This oncoming cold. When Peter swiped the back of his hand over his leaky nose, it didn’t help. His eyes itched until they burned and a gulp for air became a sharp, squeaky hiccup that razed his raw, swollen throat.

Pathetic.

The next sob escaped more easily than the first.