RaDical MiDDle - ColdType

Radical Middle | 89
Six weeks later, the phone rang early on a Monday morning.
cass’s voice screamed, “come quickly!” I sprinted to Paul’s
office. He was lying on the floor. I took it he was in a seizure,
a different kind to what I’d seen. I yanked his collar apart,
grabbed for his tongue, slapped and hit his face, but something
was wrong. I became frantic. People were running in, trying to
pull me off. In bewildered fury I hit and kicked.
Paul was dead. He’d had a seizure while working alone on
Sunday, and drowned in phlegm.
I felt I’d lost a younger brother.