She never had any real ailments or official treatments. The doctors made sure of the
No — she made sure of that.
She flew off hospital beds and stuck herself to the ceiling.
“Damn her,” the nurses whispered, as they peeled her off the corrugation for the seventh
time that day.
She hadn’t gone to the ceiling until this visit. Before, she just evaporated herself into the
Now she was expanding her means of obscurity.
This time, she slithered herself all the way out of her gown and onto her roommate — a
hairless snoring man.
He lunged up from his pronged mattress and wrapped his arms around her: his love of
But … nothing was there.
Kristen Henderson is an American writer, whose writing journey began decades ago when she was a journalist. Now she enjoys writing flash fiction and the occasional short story.
Artwork courtesy of Joanne Sala. @joanneesala All rights reserved.
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