The night falls like an ambush. In the span of minutes, temperature drops 86 degrees. If the plane crash didn’t kill us, the cold will. We huddle together the best we can. Living and dead… as one.
The night falls like an ambush. In the span of minutes, temperature drops 86 degrees. If the plane crash didn’t kill us, the cold will. We huddle together the best we can. Living and dead… as one.