Literature
Sad Chelley
The wires stretched up from him, the back of his shirt torn off sometime in the transfer. The resolution of the screen wasn't good, but Chell still felt her eyes dampen at the sight of him, a broken toy bent to the whims of the machine she'd plugged him into. He lay sprawled across the floor of Her chamber, back slightly arched to accommodate the shortest of the chords. His face was slightly flushed, the lights in his eyes hardly there at all. The harsh, jagged sound of his breathing echoed through the speakers, accompanied constantly by the soft wirr of his cooling fans. Even from here she could see the edges of his coat flutter in the warm,