Short story contest: The White Stain

May 25, 2013 by  
Filed under Wind Energy Tips

“So sorry, Lee, he was a great painter,” someone says to her left. She nods in the direction of the voice, but doesn’t stop. She reaches the beige chair and sinks into it, feeling like she’s been on a hike instead of just crossing a room. She thinks about the relief of going back into her house, creeping back into bed. Someone hands her a drink of something and she clutches the tumbler tightly without tasting what’s in it. What these people don’t know is that she feels a thud of pressure in her chest and her thoughts start repeating themselves: get out, get out, get out of this. Sometimes being in the presence of other people’s voices is physically painful. It is suddenly too loud. Shut up, shut up, shut up. She remembers that she used to not feel that way. She remembers spending hours on the phone making arrangements for Jackson, bargaining with art dealers, trying to get him shows. She doesn’t remember feeling a thud of pressure in her chest when people spoke to her then. Now she sits on the beige chair and looks at the blur around her, and she notices herself tightening and tightening. The clash of the party presses against her, closer and closer, and it’s so noisy she imagines screaming would not attract any attention.

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