First Breath

by LJ

The stars sure are bright tonight, he thinks, I could count them all.

These are his first thoughts.

The moon is high in the sky, too, luminescent and almost round, and he wonders if he's ever really looked at the moon before. He's a city kid, so he knows the constellations of street lamps and lights on people's front porches and the shadows of shrubbery. He knows them like the back of his hand, used them to navigate by night for years. The police only know half the story. He knows those lights, but the stars and the moon: these are strangely new.

He blinks and suddenly he is aware of the burning in his chest. Before he can even try to remember why this pain would be there, it begins to fade. He is still in a dream. He is still motionless.

Then:

He remembers and the pain flares, only to die down again and to continue to dissipate.

His heart beats. He feels his fingers and his feet. He chokes, his lungs demanding air, forcing the life back into his still body.

This is his first breath.

This is the end of his first death.