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Long Morning by Diana Toubassi
When the elevator shudders to a halt, I reach out to steady myself, to quell the rise of bile in my throat. I look up to Dr. Edwards beside me – I still call him that in my head – and force a thin smile. “Uh-oh,” he says. I’m not sure I can speak. I’ve tried before, at this phase of the cresting wave, and found myself cupping a pool of vomit in my hands. The elevator’s buttons all light up simultaneously, a grotesque machine-orange, then fade ou…
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1 Articles
Long Morning by Diana Toubassi
When the elevator shudders to a halt, I reach out to steady myself, to quell the rise of bile in my throat. I look up to Dr. Edwards beside me – I still call him that in my head – and force a thin smile. “Uh-oh,” he says. I’m not sure I can speak. I’ve tried before, at this phase of the cresting wave, and found myself cupping a pool of vomit in my hands. The elevator’s buttons all light up simultaneously, a grotesque machine-orange, then fade ou…
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