915, 914, 913
Black spots bled into Teresa’s vision as she blinked rapidly. A sharp pain pierced her side. Her breaths grew more labored. Bitter bile burned her throat as Teresa jog walk through the park. By the empty monkey bars, she picked up speed. A woman clutching a screaming baby shoved past Teresa. Her ankle shifted sideways and she stumbled.
Blinking back to consciousness Teresa found herself sprawled on a mound of rubber mulch beneath at tree. Sunlight smarted her eyes. The spots were back. Wiping her mouth, Teresa breathed through the need to vomit.
Twigs breaking and distant shouting, a stampede of running feet echoed through the trees. Mud spattered her blazer and there was a long rip in her pencil skirt. Sweat covered her face, drenching her silk blouse. Wondering how much time she’d lost, Teresa held onto the tree trunk to stop the world from spinning away beneath her feet.
Brittle sheets of bark came away in her wet palms. Paper birch, she thought, thinking of bookstores, grocery lists, reading magazines on languid afternoons before the App. For a moment Teresa thought about stopping, just surrendering. Empty swings hung before her and the edge of the forest waited at her back. What if— her watch vibrated against her wrist. Red, red, red her wrist band flashed.
Using the slender trunk as a crutch, Teresa righted herself. Her watch face blinked 918, 917, 916. She might make it. Catching her breath, she thanked God she’d worn kitten heels and headed for the foothills.