breathe out, breathe in; breathe out, breathe out

by Meagan Kane

Whenever Tammy is alone, she collapses to the ground, head thunking against the pavement or carpet or wooden slats. She stays solidly still. Her eyes move but her eyelids do not. Wherever her wrist bends, it holds. Her heart beats in tune with footsteps not her own as warm blood rushes through her motionless form, slow susurrations of breath stirring the air. A strong breeze blows to fill her up, to empty her out, pneumatic pressure keeping her limbs uncurled. The second another person makes their grand entrance into her space, she snaps up, board straight. It works outdoors, and indoors too.

One day, there will be a door no one walks back through. One day, she will hear soft murmurs and softer footsteps and wish to bend her wrist or unstop her throat but be powerless to do so: a big round baby left to soothe itself. She’ll breathe in. The wind will breathe out for her. And out, and out, and out. 

Until then, isn’t it a neat trick? Give Tammy a hand!

Meagan Kane lives in Minneapolis with her wife, contemplating the void and writing science fiction. Her work can be found in PseudoPod, Baffling, and Adventitious, among others. You can find her online at mkanewrites.com or on Bluesky @spocksbrain.bsky.social.