"Ah Ce, look. Such a thick mist!"
Tierlos lay dejectedly on the sofa; hearing this, he was startled. He quickly ran to the window, pushed past the yelling Capro, and looked out.
There really was mist, a dense mist. Just moments ago, it was an ordinary night, but now the street was shrouded in white. The mist emerged from the air, seeping through the cracks in the bricks. The grey-white mist was everywhere, endless, as if it had always been part of the city.
"Oh my god." Tierlos murmured, "Oh Holy King."
He reached out to close the window. But his right arm felt too weak to lift. Was it because he didn't eat enough at night? The mist seeped in through the open window, drifted through the door crack. As he pondered, Capro's terrified shout came to his ears. "Tierlos, your hand! Your hand is gone!"
"What are you saying, don't be ridiculous..."
Tierlos chuckled and looked down, his hand was melting like liquid, thinning and merging into the mist.
