Mercury
At 11 pm, it is 87 degrees and I sit in front of the air conditioner, eating oatmeal. The oats aren't soft enough, but it is sugary and fills me. Outside, the city hovers at the edge of a brown out, people sweating hopelessly inside small boxes. In Utah, it was cold enough at night to huddle under blankets inside our tent, my fingers running up your spine like a zipper. When you held the flashlight under your chin, your eyes huge and your lips puckered, I laughed until everything hurt, until I believed that it could all be healed.
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Author's Note
another of my hundred word story experiments, written as i actually sat in front of my air conditioner eating oatmeal. it's 87 degrees at 11 pm in New York City tonight, but it feels like 99.
Other stories by Chanel Dubofsky
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Great nugget of a story. Love the spine bit especially.
nice juxtaposition fave
LOVE this!!!
Submit it to 100 word stories!
A nugget that is sugary and sassy and sad.
Must say as a New Yorker myself currently living outside of NY, I do question the eating of oatmeal in that kind of heat!
But despite the food choice, I liked this a great deal.