Friday, June 17, 2011

261- Another 100 Words

    A tightening in my chest is the only warning I get before I realize:  I've forgotten again.

     I gasp air in, desperately. Then, shallow breaths as my lungs protest the abuse- an occurrence that is becoming habit.

      Tilting my head back, I regard the ceiling panels- ancient and yellowed. It’s been happening with increasing frequency- a memory grabs me, refuses to let go.

       I turn my gaze back to the computer; forcing myself back to work- reminding myself that he’s someone else’s now. I shut my brain off- try not to think about it.
 
                                                 But I keep forgetting to breath.

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