Aiden Jenkins. Cozy

"Damn right you did something stupid!" Ash exclaims in a loud whisper. A sleeping woman behind him stirs in her sleep. 

In the however long time I was gone and unconscious, the lobby of the apartment building has turned into some kind of medical safe zone. Rows and rows of injured people lay on the floor on top of blankets and thin mattresses that others must have brought from their apartments. Lit candles sit in dark corners, casting a warm glow that cozy up the whole room of the lobby. If it wasn't for the smell of burnt flesh that lingers, I would have forgotten the events of the day. Assigned untrained nurses walk up and down the rows of sleeping bodies holding oil lamps—something I had not seen before except in movies. It makes me feel like I had just woken up in another century. They walk around to check the wounded who stir in their sleep.