#SnippetSunday Number 1: The Arowana

It’s alliterative, it’s a Facebook group, and it’s an excuse to write stories: it’s Snippet Sunday!  For my inaugural snippet (snippet being an approximately ten sentence bit of a larger story), we have a scene from Break.  I prefer not to provide context in this case, given the brevity of the scene, it feels like it adds a bit to the underlying tension/confusion in the scene.


The Arowana

A big, sad fish.

 

The clock is ticking at me, and I know it’s not actually at me, but the way it just keeps on making that noise, seemingly louder every time I redouble my effort to ignore it, it feels personal.  Three days a week for over six years, and I never noticed that clock and just how loud it is.  But then again, Dr. Goetner has never left me in the waiting room for long enough for me to notice it.  There’s another tick, and it’s officially a full five minutes late.  I don’t know how much longer I can wait, not the way this morning went.  Someone is talking behind the wall I’m sitting up against; it’s too muffled to hear.  It doesn’t sound like anyone I know.  He sounds angry.

The arowana looks sad, even listless, as it perpetually swims lengths across the tank.  If its giant mouth can frown, it’s frowning now.  I listen to the conversation I can’t actually hear for over three minutes, failing all the while to ignore the second-by-second torture coming from that clock, before the door finally swings open and I stand up because that’s what I always do when that door opens.

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