Cecil Baldwin

She lay naked under the thin hospital gown and the grippy yellow socks.

Don't open your eyes.

There's nothing to see in there, the technician told her.

But she did open her eyes.

She didn't feel claustrophobic.

Instead, she felt like a malfunctioning machine.

She was merely a physical collection of parts to be examined and repaired.

The MRI voice told her, take a breath in, breathe out.

Take a breath in and hold it.

and then there would be a series of hums and thumps that she somehow could feel in her skeleton.

Her hair moved as though in a breeze, and the air in her lungs curdled, and became instantly difficult to hold, like someone was slowly but insistently sitting down on her chest.

Afterward, her doctor called, told her it was a false alarm, nothing to worry about.

But Ruth could not make the physical parts of herself constitute any kind of whole person from that point on.

She bought a potted plant and put it by the window, blocking the view of the Hollywood sign.

The continuation of the Hanukkah story soon.

The following is a test of our emergency broadcast system.

If this were a real emergency, you would not hear me as I'd be running out the door screaming, save yourselves, followed by a lot of dead air.

Test commencing now.

The town of Night Vale and all surrounding areas are under a Code Indigo level emergency.

This is a life or death situation that requires immediate and decisive action.