A Comforting Breeze, Her Story

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
This short story shares it's source of inspiration with the poem Above All, Feel. In fact, the short story tells part of the story that inspired both. (There is more to the story, but what is here is enough to get the point across). It ends semi-positively, which is true to my real feelings from that day. There is a second part to this short story that is fantasy that I hope you will also read.

Submitted: August 13, 2016

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Submitted: August 13, 2016

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I’ve worked nearly constantly for two and a half months, everything I do criticized. I’m a graduate student, and I know the criticism is supposed to help improve my presentation, but it wasn’t constructive. The professor just wanted to have his way.

 

Last week was the formal presentation, I had to work up until the last moment to correct everything and memorize it. He had crammed so much into my presentation I had to rush. It felt unprofessional to me. Everyone else said it was good.

 

I don’t know how sincere any of them were.

 

When I flew back home I decided that I needed some time to make up the missing sleep and de-stress. I slept for half the day two days in a row, both days waking to only feel still tired. I felt stressed at the idea of returning to work. I didn’t want to have to be around my professor.

 

I was anxious, so I put it off for one more day.

 

However, I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. There was still more to do, so I returned the next day. I debated that morning about maybe just working from home, but I talked myself up and went to work.

 

After an hour, I left the office space and escaped to the roof of my work place. I was having mood swings – something I had never experienced. I thought it was a sign of extreme depression and anxiety, which was making me panic more. I had had extremely mild depression last semester, which I had recognized and handled, but dealing with anything heavier than that I didn’t believe I could.

 

I looked up counseling hours and fees the school offered, and then was immediately repulsed by the idea of someone analyzing everything about me. I used to be strong. I used to rely on just myself. I didn’t know if I could give up my self-reliance – my independence.

 

I stood out on the roof for several hours just watching cars drive by on the highway. The sun was hot, making my skin sizzle, but it was more comfortable than being inside the building where someone might spot me crying – when I was crying.

 

I calmed down for a few minutes and stepped towards the railing to feel the breeze. The air was dry and warm today, and it gently rubbed against my skin. I leaned against the railing, and the wind changed directions slightly.

 

The breeze wrapped about my face and arms – it felt like I was being hugged. I cried again, but I felt like the breeze was cheering me on with its comforting caress. My tears were not bitter and tired, but as if I was releasing the feelings of relief that were swelling up in me.

 

I dried my tears and looked out at the cloudy sky – the sun unblocked by any cloud. I wondered if maybe there was a world out there we couldn’t see – a world of people that were invisible to us and us to them. But what if in moments where we occupied the same space we could feel the other – their presence and essence.

 

I thought myself stupid, but I held onto that thought because if it was real then somewhere there was a person who would be like sunshine – warm and reassuring. I just wanted to believe that that person existed in that other world because if it was true then maybe someone just like them could exist in this one. And just maybe when I complete this degree in six months then just maybe I would run into someone who felt like that breeze.


© Copyright 2017 Ellen P Luto. All rights reserved.

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