“I don’t know,” she sighed. “It’s like I’m aware of the frames of my glasses.”
“Y’know how most of the time you don’t even know you’re wearing them?”
“Well, I know they’re there.” She stared at the television even though it wasn’t on.
“Hon, are you okay?” I laid a hand gently on her arm, afraid I might startle her. I had never seen her like this.
Sighing, she slipped her fingers under her glasses, rubbed her eyes. “I don’t know. Something…” She dropped her hands, continued to stare at the television. “Something just feels off somehow.”
“How do you mean? Did you take your meds today?”
“Yeah, but I still had a panic attack.”
“How…?” I looked at her, seeking a sign of the panic. There was none. She was breathing slowly and there weren’t any beads of sweat on her forehead. She saw me looking.
“I said ‘had’ not ‘having.’” Caught, I looked away.
“I feel tired and want to sleep,” she offered, “but at the same time I want to be awake. I don’t know where to be. I don’t know how to be.”
The emphasis concerned me. I said nothing, a silent prompt for more.
She said nothing.
Minutes passed. “I don’t feel human,” she whispered.
“How can you not…?”
“Nothing is right. Everything is off. Slanted somehow.” She looked at me. “Y’know?”
I did know. Very well. “I do.”
She smiled the smallest of smiles, resumed starring at the television. “It’s why I married you,” she told the television. “You get me.”
I gave Wendryn this prompt: Write whatever comes to mind from the words: “There is nothing”