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Recurrence

This is my 300-word Fiction Writers Group flash fiction piece this week. The prompt is:


https://pixabay.com/photos/vaulted-cellar-tunnel-arches-keller-247391/


Here is my anxiety-driven attempt at humor.


Recurrence



"Damn! They all look the same."


"That’s ‘cause they are all the same."


"Just shut up. You're not helping."


When you're talking to yourself, OK arguing with yourself, you can't ever really shut up. I keep my mouth closed, but the argument continues anyway.


"I told you to get your butt out of bed every morning. But, no, you had to roll over and ignore me."


"Just like I'm ignoring you now."


"Just like when I told you to get off the Internet and crack the books, then get a good night sleep."


"You sound like Mom."


"You're a senior in college and you still need your Mommy to get you up in the morning."


I try to shut myself out of my mind while I negotiate this brick-lined maze. I thought I was taking a shortcut when I cut through the oldest building on campus to get to the academic quad. I have to get to my Math final and I’m running late. Very late. Like the whole semester late.


That annoying voice in my head woke me up this morning screaming that the final test for that class that I had blown off all semester was this morning. I haven't been to a lecture since the first week. I haven't even opened the book. And if I fail this class, I won't graduate!


Now, I'm stuck in this endless corridor with its brick archways, running this circle completely lost. The panic is rising, my heart is pounding, and my throat has clenched tighter than a...well, you get the picture.


Finally, though, I find the passageway out into the sunny open space. I can see the Math building as I streak across the quad, but the women are pointing and laughing. That’s when I realize I'm completely naked!

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