The Routine

October 6, 2018

 

The Routine.

by Marie McKay

 

 

My feet on the cold tiles are making me shiver. I am washing with my eyes closed; my body feeling like a dirty sink.


My reluctant hands move over clumsy, awkward shapes that could break into pieces to lie fierce and sharp beneath murky waters. 


A lair. Layer. Liar. Skeletons beneath my skeleton. 


But I am already shattered; fissures screaming distress signals across my flesh: semaphore flagged up on skin.


With fingertips I read the clutter; it tells me I am faulty and makes me nauseous.


Like always I keep my eyes closed, until I am dried and dressed. 

 

 

 

______________________________________________________

Top photo cred Pepe Reyes, unsplash.com

 

 

 

Marie McKay lives in Scotland with her husband and four kids. She was an English teacher before becoming a carer for her disabled daughter. She has had stories published in various magazines including, 100 word story, Bending Genres and Literary Orphans.

 

 

 

 

Share on Facebook
Share on Twitter
Please reload

Featured Posts

The Arc of the Moral Universe is Long and Bends Toward Conflation

April 20, 2020

1/6
Please reload

Recent Posts

November 24, 2019

November 24, 2019

Please reload

Archive
Please reload

Search By Tags
Please reload

listedat_12060_2x.png
  • Facebook Social Icon
  • Twitter Social Icon
  • Instagram Social Icon

Copyright © 2020 Rhythm & Bones. All Rights Reserved.