My patient's oxygen levels were stable, yet he hunched over the edge of the bed, laboring to breathe. His eyes searched mine for answers.
Resisting the urge to peek at my defined abdominal muscles, I ripped an oily chip into quarters and apprehensively put a piece in my mouth, taking a deep breath.
My sister lies dying. She cradles a rag doll. “It looks like you,” she says.
The tooth still aches, unbearably, then bearably, the inner workings of my own mouth gaslighting me as I mix the pancake batter.
While we thumbed outdated magazine pages in the doctor’s waiting area, we wondered if our baby would be all right, if there were additional vitamins or a prescription we might need.
I move the throttle from idle to 2200 rpm. My hammering heart valves are louder than the small plane’s.
As I stood at shore’s edge along the coast of Newfoundland, taking photos of an island in choppy seas, the wind blew my hat off my head.
Mum and I are arguing about cosmetics again, about her tendency to hoard and let rot.
At age 56 Mom went for her college degree and I admired that. But algebra eluded her, so I offered tutelage.
I was scrubbing dried toothpaste from the sink when my inner monologue was interrupted by a yelp from my husband, downstairs.
Guests whisper and I hear. “She’s in shock.” “Foreigners don’t cry.” “Immigrants lose their roots.”
The only time I take off my wedding band is when I am slapping bread dough onto the bench, overarm. Make of that what you will.
We reached the roof of the school unnoticed. Maggie was an expert at planning adventures and I didn't want to show her that I wasn't as fearless as she was.
… yesterday, when I was writing a birthday card, I was fascinated to see how my cursive letters leaped and bounded on the page.
It’s city snow. Driving fast, turning orange in the glare of blinking streetlights.
My friend Gina force-feeds me crackers while I’m in hysterics, riding the climax of a bad mushroom trip.
A corseted Victorian woman in puffy, pink silk beamed up at a starched-collared lord astride a stallion that pulled at the hobbled stable boy gripping its reigns.
It’s a grey day. I’m lazing around on the couch playing an inane game on my phone.
I waved, said “Sorry,” smiled out the window, and that’s when I noticed the words he was screaming.
I wake up early. Stomach churns. Panic. A gust of terror that has no language to support it.