30 Days - Tremble

 It feels like held breath.

 

Underneath the lights, it’s hot and bright, and sweat drips down the knobs of her spine. Too bright, too hot, and it’s blinding, so that she cannot see out into the darkness and what lies there.

 

If her eyes adjust, she will see them, hundreds of faces upturned and waiting, ears open.

 

It never gets any easier, she thinks. This is like a breath, held, and it makes the air tremble.