The Misfortune, Szilvia N. Adler [best black authors TXT] 📗

I’m in bed, the window is open and I am sweating when I hear the siren of an ambulance or firefighter truck passing somewhere in the distance. I roll out of bed, but accidentally knock over my little side table which I try to catch, but with a botched shot. The withering red rose in the Greek ancient vase comes to the ground with a bang as gravity grabs and pulls at it. As soon as it contacts the ground, the vase shatters into many pieces and the mushy and stale water spills onto the paper mess on the floor.


I step off the couch into the messy hardwood floor – if you can still call that a floor – to have a look outside. As I put my right foot on to the floor, shifting all the weight on it – which I happen to realize as soon as the deed is done – throbbing pain shoots up in me as my nervous system connects my carelessness with the resulting reaction. The little beige shard is halfway into the skin; the other half curiously peaks out. I pull it out with a poignant movement, then I throw it beside the withering, red rose.


On one leg – with some cereal pieces crunching – I hop to the kitchen, knock down the cheerios box from the table, spilling the rest onto the floor. I manage to get the tequila from the fridge and a light colored hankie from the drawer. I open my tequila, drink a few gulps and pour the rest directly at the abrasion. The burning feeling intensifies the pain; at least it’s sanitized. I roll the hankie around the wound and tie it; judging it will take some time until it bleeds through, then I call a cab and get to a hospital.

Publication Date: 08-21-2010

All Rights Reserved