A Portal to Natasha

It is Saturday morning, 8:00 AM. I’m exiting the bathroom to go back to bed.

I look down at my feet; black socks with tiny grey spots.

Bright white morning light is streaming through blowing curtains onto the large bed where a woman lays wrapped in white sheets with a young child. One of her arms is exposed, revealing smooth caramel skin. Her head is turned the other way.

My vision is as through a wavy glass tube-like portal; everything in my periphery is distorted.

And I think, “I’m not married! Whose house is this?!”


Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s