Intercepts

by T.J. Payne

Bright fluorescent lights illuminated the hall from cages mounted to the ceiling. The bulbs, toned to a cool “daylight” temperature that was meant to invigorate workers by mimicking natural sunlight, fooled no one.

“She’s in incredible pain,” Hannah said, turning around in her seat. “Ah, but what’s a little more?

“Listen, grief can be a mind-fuck,” Hannah said, patting Riley’s hand. “Sometimes our minds are like reservoirs. More and more gets poured into it, and they fill and fill. And our little emotional reservoirs have always held, no matter what shit we’ve dealt with. We think we can deal. But grief is this fucking monsoon. And it just doesn’t stop. And it fills our reservoir. And fills it. And fills it. Then all those dams and dykes and levees and locks or whatever, all those things we’ve built to keep our reservoirs from overflowing… they burst. And when one of them bursts, they all burst. Like dominoes. And it can be debilitating. But it’s okay. It’s normal.”

“Physical pain is fleeting. The mind closes it off, as best it can. But some pain runs deeper. Some pain lingers. It sticks to you in the darkness, and the mind cannot push it away. Pain such as the pain of watching your family suffer. And the pain of knowing they suffered because of you. That pain will never leave,”