C13 THIRTEEN

The Wine of Life

ROSE

The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees

Is left this vault to brag of.

— William Shakespeare, Macbeth

I COULDN'T BREATHE.

Couldn't move.

Couldn't feel anything but utter dread.

Darkness.

A place where light couldn't live, wouldn't be allowed to live.

Nothingness.

Then, like a babe in the womb—a dark, dank