Frayed

Depression and disease never mix. Maybe one caused the other, or vice versa--maybe they were in constant symbiosis, conspiring with each other to wreak as much havoc on her body as possible--it didn't matter. What mattered was the repeating cycle of valleys and bumps--never hills to reach the top of, that would be too good to be true. Just deep and dark, low and lightless.

As she sat on the edge of the bed, eight-year-old springs creaking and sagging under her overweight body, she thumbed the Rx bottle in between her fingers, rolling it around and examining its label as if it would help her decide. The third time in that many hours she had had these thoughts, of oxymorphone and dyhydrocodeine, to swallow down to swallow her life.

Her job, that was gone; her boyfriend too. Religion didn't do much anymore. Her mother hated her--but that was a lifelong thing--and her apartment was barely big enough to fit her and the roaches. Oh, and no money for the rent either.

As her hand went for the pen and the back of the envelope that held the taxes she couldn't pay, it brushed against the phone. And it rang.

She stopped. Swallowed. Thought.

And picked it up.

There was a catch of breath on the other end, as if surprised to find an answer. "Lisa . . . don't," it finally said.

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Commentary: Thanks to Mask by the Moon for the opening line to get me started. I need to try IM writing prompts more often.

Not Exactly Disney World

The two walked dazedly around the husk of the limousine, taking small, unsure steps as if not knowing what to do next. The cans that hung tangled in the branches clinked together softly as a slight breeze whispered by.

"The driver just texted," Chris said, shifting his weight from polished shoe to polished shoe. "He'll be back in about an hour with help."

Kathy sighed. "Well, this wasn't exactly the honeymoon we had planned."

"No." He squinted as the gold blob to the west melded with the horizon. "But you can't really account for panhandle weather."

They stood for a while, she clutching her flowers and he with his hands in his jacket pockets. His foot accidentally brushed up against the fallen tree, rattling the twigs. It wasn't supposed to be like this, he thought. Her family paid the dowry, half of which went to the wedding and half of which went to the trip immediately after. Now only half went to use.

Suddenly he looked up and walked over to Kathy, wrapping his arms around her shoulders from behind and rocking back and forth. His right hand went up to wipe her tears away. He felt her mouth move, but he couldn't tell if it was a smile or a grimace.

"Kathy," he murmured in her ear, "Florida sure is beautiful, isn't it?"

It was a smile.

"Yes," she said. Her nose was stuffy.

They sat down slowly, still rocking, tailored fabrics scratching on the concrete. In all of a minute, the humid air finally broke and rain dived down, scattering on the pavement like so many pennies. They smiled together, and then laughed at the absurdity of the situation, and continued rocking.

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Commentary: I haven't written in a long time, and I knew I needed to get back into it. I Stumbled just once and found this picture, which I thought looked pretty writable.