I collapsed into a pile of heavy limbs on the floor, where I’d remained, and where I had every intention of remaining. Marcus turned on his heel and swiftly left the room. Him, doing all the talking, all the explaining, and none of it sounding the least bit apologetic, his voice cold and distant, detached, final…having made the decision, his decision, while I stood there frozen. I couldn’t even remember where I had tossed it after I endured the one-sided conversation with Marcus. My phone rang from my bag on the floor somewhere, but it sounded miles away.

I needed to react somehow, because I hadn’t thus far. Long seconds stretched out before I would inhale in a panic, allow my lungs to taste the air in the room I shouldn’t still be sitting in, then expel that breath all too quickly. I could barely remember how important oxygen intake was in the matter of staying alive. Grab your stuff and get the hell out of here. And why would he? Why would he be the one leaving in this scenario? I hadn’t heard the evidence of his departure-the front door closing or the low rumble of his truck starting up. The house felt eerily quiet, desolate, though I knew Marcus was in the other room. It was quite possible I was running a fever. Sweat tickled my palms, pooled at the base of my neck and in the hollow dip of my throat. My skin all over was clammy and frigid at the same time.

It shook violently, no matter how hard I pressed it flat against my jean-covered thigh. I couldn’t look at anything besides the hand resting in my lap. I couldn’t look at the clock to verify how long I’d been immobile. I had been sitting in the same spot for an hour.

Four Letter Word by J. Daniels