Eyes wide open; the lids seemingly glued apart fixed on a single object in front of her eyes. Her breath became shorter, shallower, dangerously close to not breathing at all. The body responded by locking all arms and legs in the upward right position, unmoving. The only uncontrollable part of her body the mind couldn’t seize was the perspiring sweat beading at the back of her neck and temples. Her chest rose and fell hard with the onset of panic. This wasn’t happening; this couldn’t be happening. She had never locked her keys in the car before, what now? Shit.
YvetteLabecki
Quirky, in my 30's, recently married, chocoholic, cake baking, green thumb with a full tool box, knowledge of cars, country bumpkin living in the city embracing public transport while nursing inspirations to become an acknowledged writer/novelist in my spare time. Lack of the latter is my hurdle... I'm also a workaholic allergic to alcohol and any form or recreation drugs. So here is me, Vetti, facing the word 100% sober at all times with no excuses and no escape except in the world of my own imagination. Which, I can tell you consists of a constant running looney tune version of all the random things people say and do. I live and most probably will die by murphy's laws and all, as my darling husband puts it so plainly, "in your own Lunchbox".
Vetti's Lunchbox 
Leave a comment