First Step

My head rotates like the Earth around the sun, except at excessive speed.

It’s difficult to go outside, being afraid of germs and diseases, and wearing a mask does nothing to assure me. I went from going out when necessary to ordering what I need online. My therapist keeps saying I need to take it one day at a time, so today I’m taking my first step.

I place my hand on the front doorknob and breathe. It slowly creaks open.

As I walk onto my front porch, I remember what it’s like to feel the air against my face.

From Guest Contributor Lisa M. Scuderi-Burkimsher

Her Note

The front door slammed.

Before leaving, she posted a note on its frame. Unlike the daily reminders she scribbled, this one was blank.

Her husband grasped at the sofa for comfort, nestling his body in her lingering perfume. Their terrier snuggled beside him.

His mind revisited their argument. Was he wrong to throw back insults at her?

When the doorknob turned, he looked up.

“I didn’t write you a note,” she said with her voice breaking.

“I noticed.”

For a while they sat together in silence watching the sunset.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

From Guest Contributor Krystyna Fedosejevs

Krystyna writes poetry, fiction, and creative nonfiction. Her work has been published at: Nailpolish Stories, 50-Word Stories, 100 word story, 101 Words, Boston Literary Magazine, From the Depths (Haunted Waters Press), ShortbreadStories, SixWordMemoirs, and Espresso Stories.