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Microfiction Corner

My heart is racing. My palms are sweaty. My knees are definitely weak because I haven’t left my room in two weeks, and my arms sure do feel heavy. My heart’s beating so loud I can hardly hear what people are saying. I start to feel today’s lunch of mom’s spaghetti climbing its way up my throat. Should I do it? Can I even do it? I have to. Everything depends on this. I gotta hop in before the subject changes. I double check to make sure I appear calm and collected. I take a deep breath and unmute myself.

“Yeah, so piggy-backing off of that-”