Sick Day
It's all in her head.
She could feel it inside her. She closed her eyes and imagined it—slimy tendrils spreading, reaching. Infecting.
It's metastasizing, she thought.
Her heart was racing.
She recorded her blood pressure and frowned in the mirror. Was one eyelid swollen? Her eyes darted back and forth, comparing.
It's definitely swollen. What does that mean?
She scrutinized the mole near her breast, took a few photos, and saved them with the others. The doctor kept saying it was nothing.
It’s cancer, she told herself.
She pictured its fingers moving through her. Growing. Eating her.
That's definitely swollen, she thought, looking again at her eyelid.
She felt nauseated and decided to lie down. She’d have to cancel her lunch plans.
Maybe she’d feel better tomorrow.