Grace Mary Potts


My life is comprised of inconsistencies, daydreaming, procrastination techniques and occasionally, writing.

Message to Readers

Please let me know if there was anything about this piece that you particularly liked or think I should revise. Thanks for reading!

No Air to Breathe

January 25, 2015



She could feel her stomach rolling as she hastily exited the restaurant, the cool air hitting her like a bucket of ice after abandoning the stifling heat of a sauna. Shaky hands reached up to pass over her face and came away damp with the perspiration that clung to her clammy skin. She felt nauseous, her mind foggy and her eyes unable to focus in that way one is only when they're on the verge of vomiting or collapsing. Really, either seemed a possibility at this point.

Swallowing painfully she plonked down on a bench sat not five feet away from the restaurant door, which would occasionally swing open and expel light, laughter and chatter into the quiet night air before closing and leaving her in the silence again.


No talking or questioning or stilted words to enter her bubble and interrupt her thoughts.

A breeze blew into her hair, flicking strands over her face that tickled her drying skin. Her pulse was fading, no longer thrumming inside her ears as it was before. She closed her eyes and sucked in a lungful of crisp air before releasing it in a deep sigh. 

And for the first time that night, she could truly breathe

This is a very short piece but it's intended only to give a small insight into that almost clausterophobic reaction someone can have to being overwhelmed, especially when said person isn't a particularly social one. 


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  • January 25, 2015 - 8:30am (Now Viewing)

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