There’s a sneeze guard that separates each tutor and student.
All tagged sick
There’s a sneeze guard that separates each tutor and student.
At first I thought it must be a trick of the light, some particular wavelength that shimmered and flicked with an orangish sheen across his skin, like tea gone cold in a porcelain cup.
The phone’s ring pierced my mental fog as I lay in the hospital room.
Relief licks my bones. Our infant son will not die.
“You look very good,” she said, patting my arm. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Do I know you?”
I squatted on the sand at dusk, hoping the sound of the sea would soothe me, but it churned and roared like my stomach.
Little fingertips prod my eyelids, scouting before the assault.
My patient's oxygen levels were stable, yet he hunched over the edge of the bed, laboring to breathe. His eyes searched mine for answers.
I wake up early. Stomach churns. Panic. A gust of terror that has no language to support it.