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Breathing For Two

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For the deeds of today resonate....
Oct 14, 2008
Immersed in dreams of normality.
Breathing For Two

It was a click, a flare, then an inhalation and then an exhalation.

And then it was repeated.

Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale.

And it was maddening.

Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale.

And then it stopped, leaving only the silence to deaden my hearing.

But in my head, it continued, because I couldn’t have the silence be so deafening. Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale.

Continue it, Baby: please keep it going. Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale. Don’t do this to me, Baby.

Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale.

But the silence was driving me mad, and I just couldn’t end it. That was Baby’s job.

Tears squeezed out my shut eyes.

Baby wasn’t going to do it.

Oh, the hush… not a sound to be heard, except my soft pants… but even that was being smothered by the utter silence.

And then it started again.

Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale.

And then Baby ended it.

“You breathin’ for me, Suga’?”

“Yeah, Baby, I’m breathing for ya,” I whisper aloud, hands clenched on my thighs that I couldn’t see.

“You gonna keep breathin’ for me?”

“As long as you want me to, Baby.”

“You’re so good to me, Suga’. What would I do without you breathin’ for me?”

I don’t know, Baby. But keep it up.

“But I think you need me more than I do you, don’t ‘cha, Suga’?

Yes, Baby. I need you more than you need me. But I’ll keep breathing for you. I’ll be your breath as long as you want me to.

A slither of cloth scraping across cement.

Click. Flare. Inhale. Exhale.

Another movement.

“What would you do if I didn’t need your breath?” he asked.

“I would die.”

And oh, how those words are so true. I need to breathe for you.

“I think I can let you go, Suga’,” came the soft reply.

“Baby, I could get better. Breathe for you… for me…,” I whisper quickly, ‘cause I don’t want this to end.

“You need to go on. You’re not gonna get better.”

Tears leak down my cheeks. A soft puff of air moves past me, and I know that Baby’s close to me. Pressure on my cheeks, moving softly through the tear tracks.

“I love you, Suga’.”

“Baby, don’t let me go. I’ll get better.”

“You’re gonna need to move on. I’ll come later.”

This can’t be the end.

But Baby’s right. I can’t breathe for just him. Baby’s always right.

“I love you, Baby.”


In a small, white room, a man affectionately nicknamed Baby put down a small bouquet of colorful flowers on a bedside table.

He grabbed a pale as death hand and kissed the center of the limp hand.

“I need to let you go, Suga’. I know you can’t feel this. You’re better off not here. Stop breathing for me.”

And then, he laid the hand down gently, and watched as the machine was turned off…

And her chest stopped moving.


Just a little something to get me started on writing my own original work. A little short, though.
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