Thursday, March 31, 2016

A Short Story

She never used to do that.

Every day lately, Cheryl walked by my corner cube and hit her ring on the metal corner trim. Every day at least once.

She had been trying so hard to lose weight, to eat healthfully, to get some walking in every day, at least four times. Trying so hard. I felt for her, was so impressed with her. She meant it. And it was so hard.

It'd only been during the past month or so, this loss of balance, this tiniest change - a scuffing of her heels; the *ting!* of her ring, going by that corner.

Cheryl is not Hannah. Cheryl doesn't need to sink down, years gone, body overwhelmed by multiple sclerosis.

It's only microscopic chips on the rhinestone of a ring. It's only a different pair of shoes.

Hannah is not Hannah.

But somebody was, once.

And Cheryl is still Cheryl. Trying so hard, and failing a little. I feel for her. I'm so impressed with her.


Lilac Shoshani said...

You are a wonderful writer, Diane! I also feel for Cheryl, and I'm impressed with her.

DLM said...

Aw, Lilac, you are so kind.

I should note, this quickie is STRICTLY fiction. Just riffing on some thoughts I had this week, but not reflecting on anything actual at all.