It's a blast, she told him. She handed him the slide, which needed his opinion. The lymphocytes were purple, with a blackish pigment, which meant the cells were immature and spilling out too early.
The two of them worked night shift. Nothing had come in yet, so they'd drawn their own blood and tested without labels. She figured his was normal. Her insides didn’t feel right. She'd passed out at her daughter's ball game, blaming it on sunshine. Sometimes she felt blades cutting through her jaw line.
She told him she was fooling. It's the control, she said. But she knew. She laughed so hard she almost passed out again.
Kim Chinquee is the author of Oh Baby (Ravenna Press) and the forthcoming Pretty (White Pine Press). She is the recipient of a Pushcart Prize and lives in Buffalo, New York.
Cool deal, Kim. I didn't know you were a published writer. You go girl.ReplyDelete
What superb selection. How enormous and complete is the implied world here. The text is a kid of slide offering its own diagnosis--a dark one if I'm reading correctly.ReplyDelete
kind kind kind KIND of slide...ReplyDelete