Exposure
Before opening her eyes, she awakens to a racing heart as a surging wave of dread rushes through her. The red digital numbers on her nightstand shout 5:38. How will she get through this day?
Her adrenalin stripped stomach makes it hard to eat breakfast, but she feels like she may vomit if she leaves it empty. Biting down toast, she runs to the bathroom with more diarrhea. Her fight flight brain evacuating her digestive system to lighten her for survival speed.
The dizziness increases as she dresses for her assignment of the day. She gathers the three quarters and places them in her pocket. As she approaches her apartment’s front door, her heart speeds up. The sweat of her palm slides on the golden knob as she warily steps into the hallway, scurrying down the stairwell to avoid the constricting elevator.
Trudging forward through the main lobby with shaky legs, feeling the force pushing against her, she picks up her pace as she hears footsteps descending the stairwell behind her.
Out onto the sidewalk, the bright sun and outdoor air hit her like an assault to all her senses, threatening their focus on her survival.
With stilted steps, she proceeds down the endless block, teeth and fingers clenched, every muscle in her body tightening like a vice around her chest.
She stares down at the pavement trying to maintain her balance as the ground feels tipped beneath her feet. Avoiding potential eye contact with any passersby, both to avoid the shame of being seen and in case someone recognizes her and tries to engage in conversation. That would surely tip her over the edge of passing out.
Eyes still glued to the ground to stay upright, as she sees the corner streetlights approaching, she clings to the 3 quarters in her pocket, almost able to taste their sweaty metal scent with her supersonic senses.
Gulping air, she opens the door to the tiny store after a millisecond jerked hesitation. She picks up the newspaper, places it on the counter, mustering up all her strength to shift her face upwards to make face contact with the person behind the counter. She even fights outward with a smile as she risks all to lock eyes with him. She hands him the 3 coins, grabs the newspaper, and as instructed, very slowly exits the small store, so as to not further activate her flight response.
This return to the sun and air takes on a victorious feel vs the threatening assault from earlier.
Her steps are now facing home, the leg trembling slightly less. She decides to push harder, holding her chin up, daring to look at the faces of passersby, risking more to try to speed up her progress. Propelling herself further while maintaining a slow, calm looking speed, to recalibrate her brain.
The tipping sidewalk looks long ahead, but she can glimpse the green awning of her home. She is close to safety and she managed to survive today without tripping off a fatal mine.