The pain, like a sharp pinch to my side,
had gone ignored. Empty yet full
at once now. Paranoia strikes as I
step to the register, worried
as to the directions eyes
are pointed in as I
proceed to purchase.
Keys in hand, I rush home
to see my fate on a
stick. My strict mother in her
own business, in her room as I
sweat profusely, pacing from
wall to wall on six square-inches
by six square-inches.
Slowly I turn for just a peek
and already something’s forming,
and at the most gradual rate ever.
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