Strength

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Non-Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic


Elizabeth; 'Come on, get your shit together' She told herself; the creeping sensation of anxiety was building up her stomach and into her esophagus. 'A room with 10 people, that's all it is' her arm jolted in a buildup of un-escaped anxiety. She smiled how she thought she should smile, gallant, polite and maybe she would try to laugh at the right times. 'Breathe, breath, breath' she sucks in oxygen 'Wait not to fast, they will see you panicking' she exhales slowly, getting the severe sensation of walking up a large hill whilst trying to hold back her lungs need for air. She was stuck here for two hours, claustrophobic, social anxiety creeping up, up, up. Laugh, smile, Eye Contact 'Shit they know im nervous' look down, breath. Look up again, look bored. 'The trees are so pretty today' sink into your mind. 'THE TREES ARE PRETTY TODY' she yelled to herself. 
 
Isabelle; 'don't cry' she told herself. 'Isabelle, how are you going today you seem a little tired' her boss Mason, gray beard.

She turned around, her throat squeezing 'hello, yes im fine, um but' she paused 'my grandmother has just died, and mums alone so im not feeling well'.

Mason was surprised by her seeming resolve 'Oh poor dear' he planted a hand on her shoulder 'If you need to go home that's perfectly fine' she thought about the emptiness of home 'no not yet' she said to herself.

It was 2pm and she was concentrating on fitting in appointments, a bing and her phone went off. She looked at her screen and her mother had messaged her rambling, she put it back down, panic and despair rising 'no not now' she said to herself. 3pm, bing, 4pm bing bing, 5pm 'not now' a deep breath, shaking her core.

Her coworkers staring, exchanging looks, whispering in questions 'Why isn't she crying' A lady with red hair.

'Shock?' he said, they turned their heads to look at her curiously. 


 


Submitted: December 13, 2020

© Copyright 2021 Flambe. All rights reserved.

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