Ever since childhood, I was comforted by the whir of fans until I wasn’t.
The soft, white noise was interrupted one night.
I became dirty then– a teenage wasteland.
But, I cleaned up and found a man who wants to marry me.
We are supposed to be having a lovely time visiting vineyards and old barns to hold our reception.
And, now I am haunted by this huge, unexpected fan. It is as if its spun air’s weight is burning my head and shoulders and sucking away all the oxygen.
I can’t breathe.
I can’t speak.
I wake alone. Single. Sleep driven away by another night of PTSD.
(108 word count)
Photo by Yarnspinnerr
Prompt by Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers
waiting for my inlinkz activation email.