My body was getting ready for something my brain hadn’t been told about.
Wasn’t pain. A little charge from nowhere. A tickle under the breastbone. Enough to make me stop and tense up.
Something wasn’t right.
Heart was pounding. Could feel it in my ears. Has this happened before? Everything seemed wrong. Not different. Wrong. Like watching an old US sitcom.
I was in my kitchen. In front of the kettle. Holding the knife. Didn’t know what to do. Sit down? Lie down? Body wanted to run.
Tried deep breaths. That made me fixate on it too much. Couldn’t breathe without thinking about breathing.
Wasn’t sure if I could still walk. Looked at my phone. Nothing there to help. No one to call.
Didn’t want to die on my own in the kitchen. Saw my reflection in the kettle. Needed to leave. Body wanted to run.
I yanked the door open. Flew down the stairs. Slipped near the bottom. Left the building. Headed towards town. And people.
Had to concentrate on walking. No idea where I was going. Kept moving. Hunted by myself. Noticed I didn’t have shoes on when I stood on a pebble outside Tesco Metro.
Considered going in. I wanted someone to see I was in trouble. Or everyone to look at me and know that I wasn’t.
Kept moving. Got to the park, wasn’t sure why. My foot hurt. There was blood between my toes.
Checked my pulse. It was calmer. Patted my pockets. No wallet, no fucking keys. Felt that chest spark again. But cleaner this time. Known.
Jogged back. Not sure why, would still be locked out if I walked. Think I just wanted my deckchair. Heart was pounding again, but under my control.
The downstairs door was still open. Got lucky there. And the latch is broken on my flat. I knew that. No need for all the drama. It’s silly.
Have wine now. I’m better. What happened? Tried to work out how long I was out.
Does it matter? Roughly 7 minutes. Gemini thinks it was a panic attack. Embarrassing.
Think I’ll get rid of that kettle. Don’t like the way it looked at me.