I just knew. Everything was the same, but that little bit different. Imperceptible to everyone else. I could only tell because of the dread weighing down my stomach, pressing on my bladder and squeezing my colon, about to manifest in copious volatile, nauseated ways.
My head felt fuzzy: a veil had been silently set in place overnight. Like a hangover after a life of irresponsibility.
It’s not like in the movies. Life doesn’t flash before your eyes in a showreel. I’d been having flashbacks to fractured memories for weeks.
Since the blister appeared in my armpit.
He appeared in the bathroom just after a 3am moment of moonlit relief. Angry and vindictive, he wouldn’t leave, clinging to my flesh like a screaming security tag on my life.
Following me everywhere. Watching me. Loitering.
Until now he strikes. A twinge reaching from my sweaty armpit to my soul.
I just know.
Katie Isham is a writer, teacher, drummer and mild adventurer. She believes kindness is a superpower. She writes a travel blog that is currently somewhat static. Her words can also be found in Dear Damsels, The Shrew Satire and Funny Pearls. You will find her in the South of England hanging out with dogs or eating cake. Sometimes simultaneously.