My chest feels like something’s sitting on me, and when I move my tongue around inside my mouth it feels like I swallowed a handful of cotton. The rest of my body is protesting, every joint and ligament screaming in agony. The urge to moan is great but I have no idea who’s in the room with me so I’ll refrain. How did I get here? The last I remember I was at the corn maze. Well, running out of it, then I collapsed in the parking lot. After I saw her. My mother, I mean. It had been ten years since I’d seen her and yet she looked exactly the same. I guess my last memory of her would logically be the more lasting one. Her hair was still long and shiny, the color of wheat, and her skin still looked smooth, like ivory. Gray eyes stared at me with that sympathetic and caring look she’d always had. And when she reached her arms out to me I could see the blunt cut of her clear-coated nails. The ache in my chest increased until breathing felt more like a chore than necessity. Where had she come from?
