Are you okay?
The technician’s voice is an muted echo, drowned and blurred, like the photo of the sea lion on the ceiling as seen through saltwater vision. My “yes” is a fissure, the cracked sound unrecognizable as a voice my own, and I am breathing in gasping silent screams inside my mind while she prods and pokes, pushing me under, down down down into the memories again and again. Continue reading