“Are―you dying?" she asked.
"Just can't breathe. This air."
"Poor, poor―good lord. I've forgotten your name."
"Hell of a thing."
"Barney!"
He clutched her.
"No! Don't stop!" She arched her back. Her teeth chattered.
"I wasn't going to," he said.
"Oooaugh!"
He laughed.
"Don't please laugh at me."
"Not meant unkindly."
A long silence, then. Then, "Oof.”
―
Philip K. Dick,
The Three Stigmata of Palmer Eldritch