Flash Fiction: Sitting

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Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

He continues to stare at the wall, waiting for something to happen, waiting for . . . anything.

"Maybe I'm doing it wrong," he thinks, then adjusts his posture, tries to sit more upright, more like the pictures he has seen of beautiful bodies floating above lotus flowers.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

The voice in his head examines all the ways he is failing. His breathing is wrong. His posture is bad. His knees ache from sitting for only a few minutes. There is a slight pain developing in his lower back. He is thinking too much. "I must be doing it wrong," repeats over and over in his head.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

The wall is still the wall. He is still sitting.

"Maybe I need to close my eyes," he decides. And his eyes close, first very tight and the muscles twitch. Then he relaxes a bit and the twitching stops. Black. Then images of sitting flow through his mind. Images tied to thoughts. One after the other.

Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.

He is still sitting. Nothing is still happening.


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