“Done yet?” she sighs.
I drift for a moment longer before resurfacing. I take a deep breath of ocean air, damp and organic. Did it really smell that way?
She bangs on the door, “hello?”
I cut off the simulation, my droid lifts my blackout glasses. Dark walls rush in and I blink away memories of bright blue sky. What’s the world like now?
“I’m coming in,” she flings open the door, and we start our tense dance. Pills, limb adjustments, sponge bath.
I don’t react, focusing instead on the ocean, carrying me like my body no longer can.
© 2021 Rebecca Glaessner
November 11: Flash Fiction Challenge « Carrot Ranch
In 99 words (no more, no less), write a story using the phrase “carry on.” It can be an expression of perseverance or behaving in a particular way. It can even be luggage you take when traveling. Go where the prompt leads!
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