That Will Be Three Hail Mary’s
Is the taste of my bile. I hug the porcelain bowl, body heavy, anchored to the tile. My throat burns and no honey here to hold my head up while my stomach churns. The fever won’t quit It’s lonely and painful. I pass out and I drown in my own vomit.
Happy Halloween and a Blessed Samhain. Enjoy this retelling. it’s quite a crooked story…
Some more flash fiction office horror~
Show Some Heart, Will Ya?