The realization of being alone is paralyzing.
Heavy breathing. Fire. Frozen. Wings. In the dark. Milk on the fire. I’m in the dark. Dirty water from the tap. Tangled in wet sheets. Crows. Sweat. Octopus tendrils. Fists. I’m sweating.
Her mind races, sorting through dreams while trying to catch up to reality.
Alone. I’m alone.
She sighed deeply as reality became a turgescent flow capable of consuming the imprecise remnants of a strange dream. She visualized him leaving. It was the saddest good-bye story she was aware of. He left her over a buoyant blob floating in his wife’s belly. She doubted it was even his blob. He hadn’t lived with his wife in over a year. For the last six months, he occupied her bed. In an instant, it was over as quick as pulling the trigger on a gun. There was no deception, no lies, no hurtful words, no arguing or yelling. Just sex, tears, and a photo. A fuzzy blob in a black and white abstract portrait hijacked the facade she had been living behind.
She wiped tears from her eyes and broke her rule of looking at the clock in the middle of the night. She assumed her raw emotions would bind her to wakefulness despite her desire to remain asleep. The cherry colored numbers indicate the alarm would sound momentarily, signaling the advance of the day. Her emotions were an arborescent obstacle like a giant sequoia blocking a narrow hiking trail. She felt stuck between a rock mountain and a cliff, unable to get out of bed to face the day. Her raw emotions made her apprehensive about her ability to tolerate other humans on her journey through the upcoming day. She sat alone in the dark, paralyzed to motivation, and unwilling to answer the call of the alarm.
** I chose to challenge myself to combine two writing prompts into one: