It began slowly enough. A gentle sloshing sound when she walked that only she could hear. A soft misery that only normalised when it rained. A mild moisture increase. Her friends didn’t seem to notice so she was sure there was nothing to worry about
But then came the damp. She could feel it rising up from the soles of her feet, filling her stomach, her chest, her head. She was a water balloon, a bubble. Her skin felt tight, a fragile film of surface tension holding against an ache of internal pressure.
When she popped, her friends finally noticed.
Word count: 100
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting, and thanks to C.E. Ayr for the photo.
Mad rush today, no time!