Sensory Language

I’m sitting at a train station waiting for the train to arrive. I have the air conditioner blowing down the back of my neck. I’m freezing cold and I’m sick. I keep sneezing and coughing. At this point I want to pop a cough drop and then a pain pill. The head ache I’ve acquired makes me want to hit my head upon a table. The talking around me is making the vain in my head pulse. It’s like all the sounds are amplified. I can hear the people breathing like they’re behind me and that’s what’s making my neck cold.

There’s twenty minutes till my train will get here I grab my computer hoping it will distract me from movement I hear around me. I start typing, “ugh I hate my life, I why am I here.” There was a person that walked behind me.

“Well I assume your hear to catch a train,” he says. Great, I think, people are reading over my shoulder. I need some air, space, and no people. I write, “People shouldn’t be so nosey.” He frowns and marches away. “Ha-ha” I write, sneezing and pulling the beanie over my ears.

This feels like an eternity in a twenty minute format. I pull my water out of my bag and take a swig. Only it goes down the wrong pipe and I spit it all over the guy in front of me. I couldn’t swallow it and the poor guy looks in shock and who can blame him he has all my sick germs all over him. I sniffle this is not my day. I go over to apologies. “I’m sorry,” handing him a tissue for his face. Hoping he won't be mad. When I look at him water is head to toe, all over his clothes. He snags the tissue and sakes his head and say,” It’s all good I need to wash up anyway.” I smile trying to keep snot from dripping out my nose. “You can sit over here if you want you owe me.”

“You know I’m sick,” Obviously by my dripping nose.

“In that case you should be in quarantine with me, since you just spread your germs.” I try to look friendly since he’s being nice after me spitting water everywhere and I grab my stuff dragging my computer’s cord on the floor be hide me, nearly wrapping myself in it. Then falling in to the chair next to him, he offers me a drink, “Try not to choke this time.”

“No promises,” I say taking a drink noticing before hand how tired I’m getting. I’m practical lounging out in my chair now. Trying to hold my eyes open waiting for my train. Coolness wraps around me in a comforting way, I’m gone.

Next thing I know I’m waking up on my train. I have my computer next to me. I look at my keyboard then up to my screen and in a word document it say, “thanks for contamination call me for another visit to quarantine 421-245-8957.”

What an odd day I think as I blow my nose and start coughing.