C36 The Tremor in the Concrete

The heavy, drug-induced rhythm of Logan’s breathing didn't change for four hours, but the pressure of his arm across my ribs never eased. He was a dead weight, a suffocating mass of heat, sour sweat, and the sharp, chemical tang of the cortisone that had settled into the fibers of the mattress. My body was entirely locked in place, my muscles cramping from the prolonged immobility