Kissing Dirt by Nik Boston




It had been a long and sleepless night and Kelly Martin watched the sun streak fingers of light through her Venetian blinds to catch the dancing dust motes. The hum of cicadas serenaded the warm Spring morning and the young woman stretched out along the bed until her toes cracked and she let out a long sigh.

Today was the last Saturday of October and if it all played out the way she hoped, it was going to be a monumental turning point. Indeed, it would not be unfair to suggest that her entire life had been leading up to this day. Kelly watched a shiny, brown cockroach run hesitantly across the ceiling and she rolled up and off the bed before hurling a magazine at it. She missed and knocked the old crucifix off the wall, grimaced and hoped it wasn’t a divine sign.

Standing up had made her suddenly aware of how sleep-deprived she was and she sat back on the edge of the bed to ward off a dizzy spell. She knew she would need to force herself to eat something today, even though the bundle of nerves in her belly had shrivelled up any hint of an appetite for at least the last week. The nauseating apprehension had been good for her waist-line but she needed strength and sustenance to get through the next twenty-four hours.

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