There is something deeply alarming about waking up in a body that does not truly belong to you, no matter how many times you’ve experienced it.
It’s the deep, sinking nausea when I moving another's limbs to remove the Velcro straps that hold me to the practitioner's table.
This body was not mine.
I stare in the mirror, twist a lock of someone else's hair, and remain silent.
"She's gorgeous," Iris says, sliding a latex-clad hand across her shoulder.
I don't have words for her tongue to spill.
Iris fills the silence with his own words. He laughs. "Damn, I'm good."
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<3.
ReplyDeleteGUGHGHG! SO AWESOME!
ReplyDeleteI actually had a hard time following this one. I loved the concept, but I dunno, I felt a little lost. Probably my own mind playing tricks on me.
ReplyDeleteBut really, I did like it!
You made it a bit to vague for the specifics that you tried to convey. There needs to be more 'general details' to give the reader more of an idea of where this story is occurring and who are the players in the performance. It is still quality writing though.
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