Page 112 of Jameson Fox

I thought we were close when we were kids, but now I think I didn’t know anything.

Idon’tknow anything.

I suck air into my lungs.

A lot of it.

But there’s no room for it.

Nowhere for it to go.

I’m pretty sure my lungs are about to explode.

My heart too.

And my throat feels like it’s being roughly stitched closed.

Hacked together.

The stitches are so tight.

I can’t breathe.

I sit up and press my hand to my chest while taking big, dragging gasps.

And still,I can’t breathe.

I push the bed covers off and get up.

I need to stand.

I need to walk.

I need air.

Oh, God, I need to bend over.

I place my hands on my thighs and bend.

My head goes funny.

All light and fluffy.

I’m going to pass out.

I reach for something to steady me, but there’s nothing near me.

My hand connects only with air, and I stumble forward.

And then, strong arms circle my waist.

I’m pulled back against a hard chest.

And the voice I’ve come to associate with care, and safety, and protection fills all my senses.

“I’ve got you.”

I place my hands over his at my stomach. “I can’t breathe.” My words come out in between gasps for air.

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