bad liar . fireflyz
Nov 28, 2020 21:27:22 GMT -5
Post by cass on Nov 28, 2020 21:27:22 GMT -5
L U M I
You pull at the thread, fingers shaking ever so slightly as you tug it free. The strong slips into place, locking in the final stitch of the piece you’d been working on most of the day. Your fingers ached, and you stretch them out before you, flexing them and working the blood back into them. It’s with a grimace that you finally move, pushing the chair back and carefully placing the sewing items back into their container. Mrs. May is sitting by the shop window, book perched on her lap as she works carefully through each page. She’s slow and meticulous, always conscious of the fact that she has to read something a few times over for it to stick in her head.
“I think that’s me done for the day, Mrs. May,” you say, placing the sewing container back onto the shelf against the store wall. You untie your apron, draping it over your chair as you pick up the dress you’d been working on. The world spins, black dots dancing across your vision as you take a few uncertain steps forwards. Pausing, you rest a hand on the desk, closing your eyes as you wait for the head rush to dissipate. It was a simple symptom of treatment and having had your last one only just this morning the nausea was starting to settle in a little more violently. You might make it home before you start throwing up. “Miss Jones said she’ll be picking it up tomorrow, it was just a small tear.”
Mrs. May looks up from her book, slipping a bookmark into place as she reaches for the dress you offer her. She smiles gently, appraising gaze looking over the neat stitching. A simple nod of her head is enough acknowledgment of your good work and you find your cheeks heating with pride.
“Thank you, Lumi, get home safely, my dear, and make sure you rest well tonight.” There’s an edge of concern to her words, and you try brushing them off by waving your hand and offering her a confident smile that’s at odds with the place, sweaty glow on your face.
“I’ll be okay, it’s just another normal day for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The street you work on is almost empty at this time of the day, most of the shops closing by evening. The walk home isn’t long, and the evening air is an almost pleasant way of trying to fight the growing nausea and dizziness. After a few minutes, it hits you, harder and more violently than before and you stumble a few steps, gasping as your legs shake. You reach forwards, hand colliding with the break wall to steady yourself as the dizziness threatens to bring you to your knees. The uncomfortable burn in your chest has you gritting your teeth, heart racing a little bit quicker as you try to catch your breath.
“Shit,” you curse, swallowing stiffly as you turn towards the wall. You close your eyes, forehead meeting brock as you try to work through this awful feeling.
“I think that’s me done for the day, Mrs. May,” you say, placing the sewing container back onto the shelf against the store wall. You untie your apron, draping it over your chair as you pick up the dress you’d been working on. The world spins, black dots dancing across your vision as you take a few uncertain steps forwards. Pausing, you rest a hand on the desk, closing your eyes as you wait for the head rush to dissipate. It was a simple symptom of treatment and having had your last one only just this morning the nausea was starting to settle in a little more violently. You might make it home before you start throwing up. “Miss Jones said she’ll be picking it up tomorrow, it was just a small tear.”
Mrs. May looks up from her book, slipping a bookmark into place as she reaches for the dress you offer her. She smiles gently, appraising gaze looking over the neat stitching. A simple nod of her head is enough acknowledgment of your good work and you find your cheeks heating with pride.
“Thank you, Lumi, get home safely, my dear, and make sure you rest well tonight.” There’s an edge of concern to her words, and you try brushing them off by waving your hand and offering her a confident smile that’s at odds with the place, sweaty glow on your face.
“I’ll be okay, it’s just another normal day for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The street you work on is almost empty at this time of the day, most of the shops closing by evening. The walk home isn’t long, and the evening air is an almost pleasant way of trying to fight the growing nausea and dizziness. After a few minutes, it hits you, harder and more violently than before and you stumble a few steps, gasping as your legs shake. You reach forwards, hand colliding with the break wall to steady yourself as the dizziness threatens to bring you to your knees. The uncomfortable burn in your chest has you gritting your teeth, heart racing a little bit quicker as you try to catch your breath.
“Shit,” you curse, swallowing stiffly as you turn towards the wall. You close your eyes, forehead meeting brock as you try to work through this awful feeling.
O L S E N
