I squatted on the sand at dusk, hoping the sound of the sea would soothe me, but it churned and roared like my stomach. Whatever microscopic invader had mangled my insides, it wasn’t giving up, even after two weeks. It had spewed my dreams of exotic tombs and moonlit camel rides into foul latrines. I was exhausted but afraid to close my eyes. I was going to die in a faraway land of dust and disappointment; the boyfriend who’d accompanied me on this backpacking misadventure would merely mourn a ruined holiday, and there’d be no pyramid erected in my memory.
Originally a journalist and sub-editor, Sarah Barnett is now mostly a parent/carer, whose flashes have been published by FlashFlood and Paragraph Planet and shortlisted by Retreat West. Find Sarah on Twitter @SarahBooga.