Death is cold and death seems unmoving. However, for Kevin death should have come to him a long time ago. Around his body, thin sheet of blankets covered him, but it he would need for than to save him. The blankets were all wet, except for the one next to him. The falling snow and the biting frost had made it wet. It would take more than a few blankets to save him. If Kevin could see look in the mirror, he would shiver; shiver of the cold, shiver to see his frail body. He vibrated and shivered even more, his body quivered, reverberating desperately to create warmth in him. Already, his usual dirty skin had a tinge of blue.
It would take a nice warm house to save him. But every since the bank took his house, living and scavenging on the streets had become the life for Kevin.
And as death came for him, not even Kevin realised it. His eyes were shut and he was in a deep sleep. His metabolism rate slowing down to a tiny pulse, and eventually it would stop and he would take breath his last.
It would take a nice warm house to save him. But every since the bank took his house, living and scavenging on the streets had become the life for Kevin.
And as death came for him, not even Kevin realised it. His eyes were shut and he was in a deep sleep. His metabolism rate slowing down to a tiny pulse, and eventually it would stop and he would take breath his last.
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