A rough throat and blocked nostrils ruin your view of the world. A few hours ago this wasn’t so unbearable. A few hours ago there was a content smile on your face as you rested on the luxury of a mattress. Although the aching is impossible to ignore for this instant you still think of how it used to be.

The question lingers in your skull, commanding your thoughts to halt. More than a few hours ago, you were unburdened by your biology. You spoke freely, and breathed incredibly comfortably, the air feeling smooth and gentle. It can’t be helped how good it feels to breathe sometimes. In, and out. It feels good to just exist. Utterly relaxing.

A sharp pain pokes at your esophagus. It might be nice to ponder the time when your spirits were high, and it was almost as if nothing could ruin your mood–but it isn’t the truth–and the worst part is that there’s no one to blame. No one to direct your pain and anger towards, because just maybe it could change things. Your entire body tenses up, in aimless exasperation.

And one flash of ease changes your whole temperament. A simple, brief breath outward. Your right nostril’s performance is enchanting. Hesitating, you pull the air back in. The success is stunning, this beautiful nostril could take on the world. It’s an insurmountably tiny achievement, but it gave your ailed body what it needed. Hope.