[T]here is nothing behind the wall
except a space where the wind whistles…
–from “Drawings By Children” by Lisel Mueller
I’m floating in aquamarine dialed to an optimal degree. My breasts point to the sky. Bubbles tickle my back. I flap my arms like humpback flippers and hum low, sending a message to my lover. Please hear me.
My feet paddle towards a ladder.
Wrinkled fingers and toes climb to a dry platform with cushioned hammock. A filter’s soft thrum pulls me to dreams. There I run and laugh, being chased through a flowered field by dear Robert. The dream always ends with Sol pulling our flailing bodies up and up. I always wake here, alone.
There is nothing behind the wall except a space where the wind whistles between it and other honeycombed tanks as far as an AI drone’s eye can see.
A compartment opens, where a smelly glop awaits. I look up to my new sun, the red pulsing observation globe.
Merril is today’s host of dVerse‘ Prosery. Merril says:
Write a piece of flash fiction or other prose of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line.