There is no breeze when my stiletto hits the footpath. The air is stale and lifeless. Like me. I slip each foot out of my shoes and hang them from my fingertips. The path is scorching against the flesh of my soles. I’m not sure why I do it—it could be because the path is far too hot for my skin to bear, or it could be because this is a natural act for me, but I run. I run flat out. Running has always alleviated my tension—it’s probably why I started training for this stupid half-marathon in the first place. My handbag slaps at my sides as my feet pound against the tar. Running usually supplies contentment in my life, but right now I feel numb. There is no contentment—no nothing. Maybe if I run far enough away then I won’t have cancer anymore.
Darting in front of a car, I inhale harshly as I wave my apologies before entering a children’s playground on the opposite corner to the medical centre. Children swing freely. The sound of innocent laughter fills the air. The green grass instantly cushions my boiling feet. I stare at its brilliant colouration when my head drops and my hands grasp my knees.
“It’s okay. Breathe,” I tell myself, trying to slow each breath.
Without warning the grass slowly fades to a haunting grey. I flick my head upwards and my body follows suit. The swings bearing the weight of small children suddenly morph into aged tombstones. This once beautiful playground becomes ugly, as I see only an eerie cemetery. I try to escape the sudden changes, and step forward. My lungs seize, causing me to cough hard, and I gasp. I attempt to inhale air, but it’s not entering my body like it should. A stampeding herd pummels my chest, buckling my torso over, folding me in half once more.
“Breathe, May,” I whisper, right before my legs give way. I fall heavily upon my knees as salty tears flow steadily from my disbelieving eyes. Finally, I draw a needy mouthful of air only to release it again in an injured howl.
Please don’t take my life.
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