I’ve written another short story. This one’s called “The Latest Death of Morim,” and it’s about life, death, and music.
Morim woke up with his lungs burning. His whole body was cold. His joints were stiff, so stiff that he couldn’t move. He struggled to remember, to somehow grasp with his mind where he had just been, to hold on to some detail. But there was nothing.
“That one was the hardest yet,” a voice said. “You almost stayed dead this time.”