"That's odd. Maybe you just pulled a muscle or something." She walks back to her chair carefully, as if she's afraid that she moves too fast I'll experience more pain.
"Yeah, that's probably it." If a pulled muscle makes your back feel like its trying to explode outward from within, then yes, it was a pulled muscle. I do not say this, because I know that it will have no effect on her.
"Yup, nothing to worry about." She plops back into her chair and turns the movie back on.I know that her attention span is blown, and that she will probably forget all about this by the end of the day.
I cannot shake a sense of unease. I run my hand under the collar of my shirt, feeling to see if anything has changed. Finally, I cannot stand it any more and get up to go the the bathroom. I shut the door quietly and strip my shirt off as quickly as my worn muscles will allow. The mirror reveals nothing out of the ordinary. Except, perhaps, that my shoulder blades are standing out more than usual. I tell myself that this is the effect of being inside all day and eating too much pizza. Logically, it makes sense, so I go back to my chair and try not to think bout it.
But if I turn the wrong way and my back arches up against the cloth of the couch, shivers run down my spine. At some point during the day, I consider calling my father, the doctor, to ask him what he thinks. But since this would require explaining almost dying at the hands of the sea, I decide not to.
And so i stew in my indecision, until I finally work myself up enough to break out my easle and start paining. My little sister clears the area, because she cannot stand the smell of oil paint and abhors getting charcoal on her clothes. I don't know how long I sit drawing and painting before I have to stop and give my eyes a rest. I am left with a half finished painting of a woman falling from the sky, blood and feathers streaming after her from ripped wings. I do not like this picture, but am glad I painted it. At least this way it is safely out of my head.
"Yeah, that's probably it." If a pulled muscle makes your back feel like its trying to explode outward from within, then yes, it was a pulled muscle. I do not say this, because I know that it will have no effect on her.
"Yup, nothing to worry about." She plops back into her chair and turns the movie back on.I know that her attention span is blown, and that she will probably forget all about this by the end of the day.
I cannot shake a sense of unease. I run my hand under the collar of my shirt, feeling to see if anything has changed. Finally, I cannot stand it any more and get up to go the the bathroom. I shut the door quietly and strip my shirt off as quickly as my worn muscles will allow. The mirror reveals nothing out of the ordinary. Except, perhaps, that my shoulder blades are standing out more than usual. I tell myself that this is the effect of being inside all day and eating too much pizza. Logically, it makes sense, so I go back to my chair and try not to think bout it.
But if I turn the wrong way and my back arches up against the cloth of the couch, shivers run down my spine. At some point during the day, I consider calling my father, the doctor, to ask him what he thinks. But since this would require explaining almost dying at the hands of the sea, I decide not to.
And so i stew in my indecision, until I finally work myself up enough to break out my easle and start paining. My little sister clears the area, because she cannot stand the smell of oil paint and abhors getting charcoal on her clothes. I don't know how long I sit drawing and painting before I have to stop and give my eyes a rest. I am left with a half finished painting of a woman falling from the sky, blood and feathers streaming after her from ripped wings. I do not like this picture, but am glad I painted it. At least this way it is safely out of my head.
