Elizabeth Smith
Stories (2)
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Idiopathic Idiot
Oiy, I must be hungover. But it was just one little wine cooler—I shouldn’t be hungover. My eyes are killing me, though. Look left, and it stabs. Look right, and it stabs. Up and down stab, too. There’s a dull ache behind them. It hurts so bad, I’m thinking about calling into work. On a scale of one to ten, I’d give it a solid seven. Anything above a six for me is pretty bad. What’s a ten? A ten means I’m in the hospital.
By Elizabeth Smith6 months ago in Chapters
Idiotopathic Idiot
My heart is jittery, hands sweaty as I hold the roughed-up green folder that’s barely holding it together and filled to the brim with my life story. My one in one-hundred-thousand in one-hundred-thousand story. Tears pool in my eyes, blurring my vision. Naturally, my head hurts. There’s pain in the back of it, behind my eyes, and my ears are ringing.
By Elizabeth Smith6 months ago in Chapters
