“Breathe.” he says.

As I’m bound and gagged with no way for air to get through.

“Breathe.” he says.

As I’m choking on the noxious gas.

“Breathe.” he says.

As the atmosphere morphs to a liquid, drowning me.

“Breathe.” he says.

As I’m pulled into a vacuum, suffocating.

“Breathe.” he says.

Until I stop and listen; to every sad song ever written, to the rain on the window, to the wind moving through the trees, to the children still entertaining hope, to the yet unwritten character voices filling my head, to my heart pounding deep within my chest, to the oxygen filling my lungs, and to the word on an exhale.


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