My tongue feels swollen, my sinuses are dry and my eyes itch. The heater rotates on and off on and off as the wind blows through the cracks in the walls. How can I get out of here?
The smell of the outhouse is almost overwhelming. The sounds of the party in the clearing ring out festively but the salty tears just won’t stop. I’m sure I look like a raccoon now with mascara running down my cheeks. That bastard set me up! And a wave of nausea broke through and caused horrible dry heaving hacking cough to erupt from my soul. How can I get out of here?
The thought would not quiet itself, would not leave me in peace, would not allow me to get up and walk down the pathway to my car without giving a damn if anyone saw me. The bastard set me up! How will I ever get out of here?
My limbs appeared to have frozen and the strength ran out of me and spilled over the threshold of the doorway.
It’s too hot in here.
©2010 Sharon J Corrigan