I didn't breathe through this entire chapter. I read this:
No tears, only heavy words like a wet wool coat.
and admired your simile (I love unexpected, perfect similes). Then I read this:
His heart felt like it was breaking.
There’s nothing to describe the pain he felt, like someone implanted a bomb inside him and detonated it. Reflexively, he put his hand to the ache and for the life of him could not breathe. It was like the beat was fluttering and choking at the same time, the organ weak and clawing to keep the blood flowing. When Jim finally gasped for some air, the pain bloomed and spiked through him until there was nothing he could do but cry helplessly.
I admire your use of language endlessly; your choice to eliminate almost all punctuation gives the piece an endless quality itself. The variations on grey you've described also evoke the description Chapel gave of the grieving period -- this is an extremely well-woven narrative.
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No tears, only heavy words like a wet wool coat.
and admired your simile (I love unexpected, perfect similes). Then I read this:
His heart felt like it was breaking.
There’s nothing to describe the pain he felt, like someone implanted a bomb inside him and detonated it. Reflexively, he put his hand to the ache and for the life of him could not breathe. It was like the beat was fluttering and choking at the same time, the organ weak and clawing to keep the blood flowing. When Jim finally gasped for some air, the pain bloomed and spiked through him until there was nothing he could do but cry helplessly.
and I felt like my heart was breaking with Jim's.
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I admire your use of language endlessly; your choice to eliminate almost all punctuation gives the piece an endless quality itself. The variations on grey you've described also evoke the description Chapel gave of the grieving period -- this is an extremely well-woven narrative.
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