The sign said:
Yoga for Zombies
Thursday 6pm – 10pm
Ingrid paused in her shamble to the T and felt a smile tug at her lips in spite of her fatigue and bad mood. She certainly felt zombific by Thursday night – apparently she wasn’t the only one. There was no phone number, website or address, but there was a big red arrow pointing to the left, so she turned and followed it.
“Which way to the obstacle-running tryouts?”
“Excuse me, where are the obstacle-running tryouts?”
“Over there, but they’ve already started, you’re going to be late.”
“Hi! Is this the line for the obstacle-running tryouts?”
“You’ve already missed your name-call. Better luck next year.”
“But… I was having trouble finding my way here – the announcement listed the wrong place.”
“Pfa! If an obstacle like that makes you late, there’s no way you belong on the team.”
I struggled a bit with the POV in this one. Let me know what you think!
Lisa paused by the roses, gazing at their perfect colors longingly. Why do I torture myself like this, she wondered.
The wind shifted and she inhaled deeply, her eyes closing in involuntary pleasure. She could pick out the scent of the roses easily, as well as the lavender arrayed behind them and the sharp, intense smell of tomato plants from the nearby vegetable tent.
Because spending my weekend at The Garden Center is better than nothing, she reminded herself. And at least here, I don’t have to worry about killing the plants.
She awoke with a gasp, wrenching herself free at last from the dream. The nightmare, really, for what else could you call a dream where your lover died, and the sheer weight of sorrow drowned you until you had to wake up?
She stifled her sobs and turned instead to face her lover in the darkness of their bedroom. A little light from the street seeped in past the shades, but not enough to let her see if he was breathing. Was he breathing? She watched him intently, holding her own breath, but she couldn’t tell.
She didn’t want to wake him, if he was alive. It was the middle of the night, they both needed their sleep, and there was no reason to wake him. As long as he was alive…
She laid a hand lightly on his side, feeling his ribs rise and fall, ever so slightly, under her touch. That was enough – he was breathing, he was warm, he was alive. He even shifted a little, changing position and snuggling deeper into the blankets.
She took her hand away reluctantly, still not wanting to wake him but enjoying the comfort of touching him. Instead she lay on her side and watched him until her eyes felt heavy enough, and her mind felt calm enough, to let sleep take her away again. He’s alive, she reassured herself silently. It’s all right.
It’s all right.
“Is something wrong? You seem distant, ever since we got to the city.”
“Oh… it’s nothing. I think I’m just a little overwhelmed. All the sights and people…”
She hadn’t expected him to notice, and wasn’t sure what to do now that he had. Would he even believe her if she told him the truth? More importantly, would he still want her if he knew about the neural augmentation wired through her brain and body? She couldn’t take the chance, but walking through the city with her perception filters unshielded was out of the question.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I’m just not much of a city person.”