Today I chose to not take the pill.

There wasn’t any valid reason for it, I had simply decided to take a break. No one wants to become hooked to a tiny blue oval, after all. Besides, it was a lovely day out.

I stepped out of my apartment and headed down the clunky elevator. The good ol’ faithful elevator; she always felt like she would break, plummenting down and crashing into the basement floor. Yet, she persisted, chugging along every day.

I typically don’t run into my neighbors. They’re shut-ins, overnight workers, or elderly folk. I don’t mind too much, I’m not too socialable either.

I pushed open the shabby double doors and stepped into the sunlight, shining high over the trees. Perhaps I should treat myself, there’s a cafe down the block. Family-owned, I beileve. Parker’s. I was never sure if that was a first or last name. They made excellent bagels.

Walking down the street, I felt oddly peppy. Like, the universe had kissed my forehead to grant me a day of deserved luck and peace.

A mother dragging along a young boy, presumably her son, sped past me. Something shiny caught my eye, but I assumed it was a necklace or some coin the boy had picked up.

But as more and more bustled around me, I realized that everyone seemed to reflect off the sun. Passing by a park bench, I slowed to a stop. There was an elderly seated by each other. Both having zippers across their skin.

The elderly woman looked up, unzipped her lips, and smiled at me.

Blood dripped out from her gums, staining her teeth red. Looking closer, I could see that the rest of the zippers had red clumps around, did it hurt?

I nodded at her quickly before dashing off. I paid more attention to those around me now.

Everyone had zippers.

Stretching across their skin, pulling it tight. Some had blood dripping down their skin, others had the red clumps surrounding the zippers. A lady unzipped her mouth to talk to her friend. Blood poured out of her mouth and stained her dress.

I saw someone zip and unzip his eyelids. Is that his way of blinking?

The sound of the zippers echoed, getting louder and louder. I wasn’t close enough to Parker’s. I wasn’t close enough to my apartment. So I ran.

Covering my ears, I ran.

Why couldn’t I have stayed inside? Taken the pill? Am I still dreaming? That would make sense if I was, I always take my pill.

I dashed into a park, it typically wasn’t very busy in the mornings. After school hours was a different story, but those kids won’t be out for a few hours.

Hiding behind a park bench, I covered. I cried. I could still hear the zippers, the blood pooling around their ankles.

Why are they covered in zippers? Why are they bloody? If I unzip them, will their layers fall off? One by one? Fleshy bit by fleshy bit? I felt sick.

I threw up. Where were my zippers? Why am I so different?

Why am I different?

I can’t be different. That pill made me different, hardly anyone else takes it. Why do I always stand out? Do I not bleed?

I began to scratch. And to pull, to tear. To rip, starting from my arms to my thighs. Blood pooled around, staining the grass. I frantically looked around at the bits of flesh, not good enough.

I grabbed a sharp stone and began to jab at myself, leaving deep wounds. Where are my zippers?

Taking the rock, I bashed into my teeth. I recalled the chatty lady, the elderly woman. They bled when they spoke, so should I. Teeth shards fell onto the ground, a gift to the worms.

I cried harder as I dug my fingers into my skin and smashed the rock into my bones. It hurt. It hurt so badly, why do I have to do this to myself?

Why don’t I have the zippers? Why do I have to take the pill? Why didn’t I take the pill? Maybe then, I would have zippers.

So here I lay, in a pooling puddle of blood, flesh, and bits of bone, salted by my tears. Zipperless. Despite everything, I am the same. I am different. I am zipperless.All because today I chose to not take the pill