Yvette, in suspended animation, unclad body limp and semi-conscious in a swoon across the bed, her respiration halted, her skin tone faintly blue, kissed in a last-ditch effort to accomplish resuscitation, lips on lips intent on emergency CPR, nostrils pinched, forehead tilted back, her would-be savior's urgent exhalations inflating lungs impassive, seemingly indifferent to his panic-stricken measures, stubbornly content to sustain her slack repose—brought on by an ill-advised attempt to link respective organs; his made less redeeming by the state that this induced, spasms in succession having escalated steadily, the last arousing a rush so intense Yvette forgot to breathe, or simply ceased breathing, for whatever reason, no sign whatsoever of aspiring to resume in spite of unrelenting efforts including chest compressions—hands over solar plexus for fifteen pumps—1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15—followed by two quick breaths—1, 2—followed by fifteen pumps—1, 2, 3, 4, 5...

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