Mindlessly, I reached up into the cabinet to grab a glass for water. As I looked at the blue, intricate juice glass in my hand, I was instantly transported to grandparent’s kitchen table. I recalled wonderful memories of cool mornings with the kitchen windows open; brisk wind flowing through the room as my cousin’s and I sipped our juice, and ate our white bread with salted butter and fried eggs.
Instantly, my mind split. My heart began to race. My breaths became shallow and rapid. My muscles tensed up. What was happening to me?
There was another side to this house, to my grandmother, to these memories. Terrifying flashbacks began to engulf my whole being. I was shaking.
Without thinking, I clutched the eerily blue juice glass and violently through it in the rubbish bin. I began grabbing all of the phantom figure liquid containers and rebelliously throwing them one by one into the depths of darkness.
A story about a nurse, memories of breakfast, and unpleasant flashbacks.