Drabble


E n o u g h


It was a twisting knot of worry burning in his gut. Clenching. Unclenching. Clenching. Unclenching. Clenching. Unclenching. Fizzing. Hot. Clenching. Unclenching.

Shit.

Raphael could feel the trails of sweat, sliding down his neck, dripping to the floor. He could smell the blood. It was sick in his nose, fizzing like acid. Burning.

What is the last thing you watched on TV?

I'm sorry.

When did you last step outside?

I'm sorry.

What is the last film you saw?

I'm sorry.

If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live?

I'm sorry.

Tell me something about you that most people don't know.

I'm sorry.

If you could change one thing about the world, regardless of guilt or politics, what would you do?

I'm sorry.

Do you like to dance?

I'm sorry.

Type of music you like most?

I'm sorry.

Type of music you dislike most?

I'm sorry.

When did you last laugh?

"I'm sorry."

But it will never be enough.


Mikey is Dead. Raphael laments.

Thank for reading. It's more than I ask.