A story I wrote, about a memory from years ago.
When I was still living with my parents, I had the most wonderful space heater. My mom still has it, actually. It’s the kind where two bars get red-hot behind a grate, no hot air, just those bars. It was brown. It is brown.
Here’s a story:
My ribs are aching, with pain, the middle of the night. What has happened? I am in my bed holding my side, curled up, overwhelmed with pain, and I must fall asleep. I wake up with my ribs stinging and clouds in my head. What has happened to my body? I have a wisp of a memory of crouching up out of bed and falling on my heater, bruising myself. I was overtaken with something, an urge to move, and I fell. I fell and now something tender is blooming under my ribcage. And I am aching with pain.
(*unrelated photo, empty spaces)