You blink through thick eyelashes. Feeling returns to your arms, your legs, then your fingertips and toes.
In a moment of sudden panic, you realize you are naked, and lying on a cold metal cot. Your right arm jerks, but it seems to be caught on something. Claustrophobia causes a tightening sensation in your throat.
One slow breath, and you remember that this is what you should have expected. You came here for surgery. It seems to be over now, and your brain is slowly waking from the fog of anesthesia, one struggling cell at a time.
Your eyes have difficulty focusing, but you can tell the light in this room is dim. You see blurs in your vision of black, dark orange, and the occasional punctuation of yellow, as the nausea settles.
Joint 8th place (out of 28) in the 18th Annual Interactive Fiction Competition.
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