at the disco.

Panic.
You open your mouth. Open it so wide your jaws creak. You order your lungs to draw air, NOW, you need air, you need it NOW. But your airways ignore you. They collapse, tighten, squeeze and suddenly you're breathing through a drinking straw. Your mouth closes and your lips purse and all you can manage is a strangled croak. Your hands wiggle and shake. Somewhere a dam has cracked open and a flood of cold sweat spills, drenches your body. You want to scream. You would if you could. But you have to breathe to scream.
Panic.