My breasts pulsate and my nipples tingle. I’ve not eaten for days yet my waistband punishes me. I feel messy. I look messy. I haven’t showered, I’m terrified to see myself naked. Yesterday, I noticed new blue veins skittering across my belly, a map marking my careless misdemeanour. Turning the cold tap, I notice the scum line and heave. Nothing comes. I sluice my face with cold water. Bury it in a towel. Outside the sun shines, clean clothes blow on the line. Abnormal me on an ordinary day. There’s no washing this away. Mourning, I walk out the door.
Emily Hill is an English teacher of more than 20 years. She enjoys experimenting with micro and flash fiction forms. emilyhillfiction.wordpress.com