Exactly what it says on the tin. Steve’s perspective of those 70 years.
I’d like to say this will update daily, but I feel that I’ll be jinxing myself into making that not happen if I say that, so I’ll just say that hopefully this will update very, very often.
(See the end of the work for more notes.)
It’s cold. Very, very, very cold.
That’s the first thought.
Steve blinks his eyes open and—
His eyes. His eyes! They won’t open! His eyelids are stuck!
He opens his mouth to call for help, but—but that won’t open either! And his fingers can’t twitch and his toes won’t move and his knees won’t bend and his chest won’t move to draw breath and—
Oh.
God.
He can’t—
He can’t breathe.
God!
Fuck!
Help!
He can’t breathe!
Please! He can’t—!
He can’t—
He can’t…
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