Messages dans Contemporain

Two Days Later…   I let out a long, tired sigh. I’ve been trying to read the same sentence for the last half hour. I can’t focus. I can’t do anything but think about my life’s situation and what it really means in the long run; potentially die from cancer, or never sing again and give up any chances I ever had at pursuing my dream. I’ve always wanted to sing. That’s the only reason I even came back to finish college. The only reason I’ve been busting my ass… Lire la suite

He blinks once. Twice. Something unreadable passes through the icy blue of his eyes with each movement. “Excuse me?” Frost’s tone is incredulous, and coupled with the edginess of his deep voice, he sounds borderline threatening. His brow arches higher than I’ve ever seen it, his forehead creasing in a way it never has before. I never thought I’d see an expression like that on his face. This is the closest thing to surprised I’ve ever seen him in the time I’ve known him. But it only lasts a few… Lire la suite

It takes a minute for his words to sink in. Complications? What does he mean by ‘complications’? What kind of complications? I should be verbalizing all that to him, but instead, I try to assess his face, searching for any subtle cues or changes his expression might give away on the seriousness of the matter, but he remains as stoic and unreadable as ever. I can’t even tell if I should be worried or not. It actually baffles me how he can so easily go right back to being cold… Lire la suite

What the hell are you doing, Ramona? My mind screams at me, the voice of reason in my head becoming loud and belligerent. A wave of immense horror quickly follows, along with a bout of extreme blood rush and adrenaline to my head, and as a human being, I do the only thing I’ve been biologically programmed to do in a situation like this. I freak the fuck out. “No!” I whimper, my palms frantically pushing at his chest in sudden panic and mortification. I’m not sure he hears me,… Lire la suite

More seconds pass with our bodies intertwined, his arms still wrapped around me as I lean into him. He continues to rub my back, and the action somehow feels both platonic and sexual; like how a father would comfort his child, but also in the way a man would soothe his lover. I try not to think about the latter. I take it back. I try not to think of either. He’s not my father. And he’s definitely not my lover. I let out a shuddery sigh as all the… Lire la suite

I can barely stop myself from rolling my eyes at the question. Ugh, not the ‘good news, bad news’ trope. I’m so not in the mood for this. I sigh audibly, unable—and unwilling—to contain my irritation with this whole situation and the way he seems to be stalling on just getting it over with and telling me what I need to know. On another note, what is it with people and this damn question? ‘Do you want the good news or the bad news first?’ Jesus, does it fucking matter?… Lire la suite

Each of my toes feels like a large bag of cement, weighty and swollen, as if they’re on the verge of bursting inside my shoes. My steps are strained as I struggle to place one foot in front of the other, forcing my reluctant body to keep up with the other pair of moving legs in front of me. The soft, barely audible sound of the nurse’s shoes pressing into the built-in carpeting registers in my ears, and I realize the only reason I can hear her footsteps is because… Lire la suite

The following morning… My feet feel unbelievably sore, and my back, neck, and shoulders all ache like a motherfucker, thanks in no small part to falling asleep on my hard apartment floor, but I keep walking, unable to stop myself from moving. I keep going back and forth, to and fro, putting left foot after right foot, again and again until I can almost feel my boots creating cracks and furrows in the tiled floor. I’m pacing like a maniac, even though the receptionist and two nurses have already told… Lire la suite

That’s what he’d said. A fucking tumor. At first, I wasn’t sure I heard him right. I mean, I couldn’t have. But then, he came and sat down next to me, his eyes focused and slightly cautious, with a sort of concern showing through the depths of icy blue that I’d never seen before. And then he handed me the brown folder. I took it warily, opening it with trembling hands and a creased forehead, still trying to wrap my mind around what he’d just said. My eyes shot to… Lire la suite

I walk into my apartment, feeling my shoulders slump of their own accord as I step over the threshold, my arms limp and strangely heavy, as though I have the world’s largest bowling balls stuck on each of my fingertips. My bag’s strap digs almost painfully into my skin through my coat, feeling heavier than I ever remember it being even though there’s not a whole lot in it. I am inexplicably tired, worn out, exhausted, drained, and just plain out of it. It’s almost numbing, actually; to feel so… Lire la suite