博客來Eli awoke to the sound of his daughter coughing.
Not the dry, fake cough she used to skip school, but a real one-sharp, stubborn, buried deep in her chest like something had taken root overnight. He rolled off the tattered sofa bed, the springs groaning beneath him like old bones, and planted his feet on the cold, cracked linoleum floor. A shiver gripped his legs instantly. The heater hadn’t worked in weeks, and the wind outside howled like a wounded animal, clawing at the building with icy fingers, rattling loose boards like it was searching for a way in.
He stood there for a moment in the dim pre-dawn light, disoriented. The apartment was quiet except for the whistle of wind and the sound of her breathing-wet, rattling, urgent. He blinked hard, trying to gather himself.
The room smelled faintly of mildew, rust, and something older-like wet paper and copper. Their tiny two-room apartment had long surrendered to the damp: wallpaper curled at the edges, ceiling tiles sagged like bruised skin, and the corners held shadows that never quite disappeared, even during the day. The cold seeped up through the soles of his feet and settled in his spine.
