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AperçuAutobiography

The Cough

By March 28, 2020No Comments

Stand­ing six feet from the neigh­bor­hood phar­ma­cy counter. Sup­press­es imme­di­ate urge to cough. Sweet Jesus, why now? Holy Mary, Moth­er of God, I’ll take back all the papal­ist jokes, I swear. 🤞 It’s always the most inop­por­tune time!?

FFS, pre­serve me in this my hour of tribulation!

Minute cap­il­lary ves­sels begin to explode in the eyes, the neur­al cir­cuit­ry sparks and sput­ters, the heart skips a beat, the cough scratch­es across the throat with all the men­ace of a ser­i­al killer stalk­ing his prey… Heart and nerve and sinew begin to implode, the vac­u­um of an emer­gent sin­gu­lar­i­ty pulls at the fibers of your soul, a shud­der rip­ples through your sub­atom­ic matrix threat­en­ing dissolution… 

The pre­scrip­tion is shuf­fled across the counter. The card is shoved into the slot. You nod, tears form­ing. And slow­ly, with all the dig­ni­ty you can muster, leave the premises.

And then your face explodes in an expec­to­rat­ing fit of ocu­lar orb-bulging vio­lence. And so it is, this tale of Coro­natide and the new­found need to throt­tle invol­un­tary reflex­es like a thug in a dark alley.