The Big Fake by Penelope Bloom EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Penelope Bloom
- Language: English
- Formats: PDF / EPUB
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Series: None
- Price: Free
- File Size: 1 MB
PEARL
Some days, there was just a feeling in my chest that everything was about
to go very, very wrong. You could call it a form of “ESPN,” as my cousin
would say–like a telepathic connection to the future. Maybe it was just my
supreme intellect collecting subtle clues and assembling them in my
subconscious. Then again, it could’ve been the text from my friend at work
begging me not to come in.
Yeah, it was probably the text.
I rode the elevator up to my floor, fingers twitching against the hem of my
coat and feet tapping. My heart was hammering. Thump. Thump. Thump.
Big, punching beats that practically rattled my bones.
I slid my eyes up to the row of numbers at the top of the old-fashioned
elevator. A red arrow slowly slid from left to right, working its way past four,
then six, and inching ever closer to ten.
I had no idea what was waiting for me on the tenth floor. Whatever it was,
Marley was definitely trying to convince me not to come in today, so it had to
be bad.
Now, me freaking out wasn’t exactly national news worthy material. I had a
little bit of a known habit when it came to being overly anxious. If I saw a
friend walking the same direction toward me down a city street, I’d go into
defcon four over the decision to wave, smile, or pretend I didn’t notice them.
A confrontation at work? That was grounds for calling in sick. All week. Even
rain freaked me out sometimes, because I imagined all the gunk floating in
the air getting a public transit ride via a drop of water straight into my
eyeball. I wasn’t sure if that’s how you got gonorrhea, but I didn’t see the
reason to take chances.
With a little professional help, I managed to transform myself from a constant
mess to only a mess when I had an excuse. The problem? There was always
an excuse to freak out if you looked for it. Once, I’d read about a little fish
that swims up the tip of men’s penises. I think it was local to Africa, but if
you really thought about it, what was to stop one of them from hitching a
urethra-taxi over to the States?
How did I know it wasn’t in there with a
lover, ready to colonize our waters? And why would it only be the penis?
But my therapist would tell me to control what I could control. Take deep
breaths. Convince my body we were calm and it would take my lead. Except
I was about to step into some real shit. I should be on high alert, shouldn’t I?
I should be ready to use every ounce of martial arts skills I didn’t have to
attack the problem.
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