Drabble: Air

Air

Fourteen and one half pounds of air, pushing down (and in and up and whatever else) against every square inch of my skin. All my life I’ve stood it, but today it’s jsut too much, and I can’t bring myself to do anything but lie in bed and wish for it to stop. But wishing does not make it so. I want to do something about it, anything, but that would require action, and that’s just too terrible to imagine. Nothing to do except to pass another day, wrapped in the crush of disappointment, tangled in sweat-soaked bed clothes.