A good life
Winston had lived indoors his entire life. As a baby1, he was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease. His parents turned their house into a giant clean-room, and kept him from venturing outside. They couldn’t risk the constant fear of an ambulance2 ride to the hospital.
He had a schedule for taking all kinds of different medicine3, but his life was far from boring. He had plenty of “friends” like Mike, a mannequin4 his grandmother gave him when he was 2. He had a chest5 full of toys to create fantastic worlds. Some days, he’d pretend that the floor was a gigantic ocean with vikings6 and pirates. Other days, he’d turn the floor into a post-apocalyptic world with buildings half-buried in “snow” blankets7.
Winston’s favourite times were with his parents. They’d set up a tent8 in the living room, eat popcorn and s’mores, and watch movies on the television9. Then, he’d fall asleep looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling.