The Hoarse Whisperer

Her lower back screamed with pain, the numbness down her left leg nagged at her like a Jewish mother. She shifted her weight; bit her lower lip at the all too familiar angry pinch which followed every movement. “Only when it rains”, she said. This line of questioning left her bemused. She was suddenly aware of how rigid she was, anchored to the sea foam green linoleum floor like a tree in a haunted forest. She attempted to loosen herself up by allowing a breath to escape. Horrified by the inadvertent sigh she produced her body tensed even more and she wondered with dismay what conclusions he drew from her obvious discomfort. Her vocal cords stiffened, outright refusing her the luxury of a normal current of breath. Her next sentence, intended to ooze with confidence, instead came out as a hoarse whisper, “I’ll be fine”.