100 words

While it’s cold outside, I’m propped up in my bed with oversized pillows and a heating pad. It’s just past dusk and the lights are off; the laptop glow outlines the contents of my night stand (a lamp, a cheap-thrill novel, and – yuck – used tissues), and reflects in the mirror across the room. Lucky is barking at the boogie man, again, and his “daddy”, Shawn, is shuffling and puttering downstairs. The vent is blowing dust and warm air over my head and probably up my nose, which would explain my constant sniffling, the only sound in the room.

(Ok, it's only 98 words.)