He closed his eyes tight, trying hard to block away the captured image of what he saw. Even when darkness enclosed his vision, the vivid memory replayed itself immediately. How their lips moved up and down, proclaiming destruction and how their eyebrows moved to different sides, exclaiming contained perceptions.
His breathing turned ragged, the pathways of air were slowly closing. It was killing him, the images and their spoken words. They were bringing him down, not slow, but immediately. His knees touched the cold ground, but his eyes were still shut.
He couldn’t breathe. He was dying. I was dying.