"That is... quite troubling to hear, Clark," his doctor decided mechanically, "but when I asked about what you're feeling I meant in your rectum."
Clark disappointingly remembered the finger in his ass.
"Oh... um... just some tension, nothing irregular," he murmured uncomfortably.
"Right, well, I regret to inform you that you have a completely healthy colon and I'm not sure why you've been experiencing rectal bleeding," the doctor said to the wall clock. "Just try and eat healthier and if it persists then just give me a call."
The doctor left promptly, leaving Clark to deal with what was now a strange sense of abandonment.
On his way home, Clark pieced together the tatters of his life, trying desperately to fit them together to find the missing piece. Lately, life had felt grey and slow. A giant ticking clock constantly followed him, its noise drowning out all conversation, all music, all ambiance. The color red was no longer a bold and impassioned representation of the human life blood splattered across a canvas, it was the color fucking red. The warm nights no longer had thoughtful paces, but quick glances and ready hands. Home was hot rotting in a wet cave. People were gentle ghosts.
And to top it all off rectal bleeding was now on the list of ever-growing troubles already plaguing his sickly mind.
Clark drove without music nowadays. It cluttered his thoughts. Buildings all felt the same rolling by without a tune, but when the car settled things felt more open. At stoplights his gaze would linger on the horizon of the trees, the shapes in the clouds, the people... that woman on the bench in the green dress.
Suddenly, Clark was attentive to his posture. The woman had smooth, flowing red hair.
"Like... like burning hot lava," he thought passionately.
Slender, pale skinned arms, shapely legs, an inviting bosom.; he imagined a blanketed hearth and warm melted chocolate.
Green eyes flashed up at him, from behind a small black book. She pointed lightly.
Clark turned to the now green stoplight, and merely blinked.
"Did I just hallucinate? Did the light just speak to me?" he wondered.
Moving down the road, he took one last glance in the rear view mirror.
"Anyway, she's probably a slut," Clark snapped at himself as he turned on the radio, "fuck girls like that."
♪Come and smile your cares away
In a far off land in the sun
Your mind won't have time to worry
You'll be having too much fun♪
The song reminded him of simpler times.
That night Clark searched the internet for answers.
"Right, well, I regret to inform you that you have a completely healthy colon and I'm not sure why you've been experiencing rectal bleeding," the doctor said to the wall clock. "Just try and eat healthier and if it persists then just give me a call."
The doctor left promptly, leaving Clark to deal with what was now a strange sense of abandonment.
On his way home, Clark pieced together the tatters of his life, trying desperately to fit them together to find the missing piece. Lately, life had felt grey and slow. A giant ticking clock constantly followed him, its noise drowning out all conversation, all music, all ambiance. The color red was no longer a bold and impassioned representation of the human life blood splattered across a canvas, it was the color fucking red. The warm nights no longer had thoughtful paces, but quick glances and ready hands. Home was hot rotting in a wet cave. People were gentle ghosts.
And to top it all off rectal bleeding was now on the list of ever-growing troubles already plaguing his sickly mind.
Clark drove without music nowadays. It cluttered his thoughts. Buildings all felt the same rolling by without a tune, but when the car settled things felt more open. At stoplights his gaze would linger on the horizon of the trees, the shapes in the clouds, the people... that woman on the bench in the green dress.
Suddenly, Clark was attentive to his posture. The woman had smooth, flowing red hair.
"Like... like burning hot lava," he thought passionately.
Slender, pale skinned arms, shapely legs, an inviting bosom.; he imagined a blanketed hearth and warm melted chocolate.
Green eyes flashed up at him, from behind a small black book. She pointed lightly.
Clark turned to the now green stoplight, and merely blinked.
"Did I just hallucinate? Did the light just speak to me?" he wondered.
Moving down the road, he took one last glance in the rear view mirror.
"Anyway, she's probably a slut," Clark snapped at himself as he turned on the radio, "fuck girls like that."
♪Come and smile your cares away
In a far off land in the sun
Your mind won't have time to worry
You'll be having too much fun♪
The song reminded him of simpler times.
That night Clark searched the internet for answers.
Meditation can often be key to achieving a healthier mental state! Relaxing the mind and body has been shown to improve moods, stress levels, and overall function.
He scrolled down.
An easy way to begin the meditation process is to simply find a calm and quiet place, and begin to take deep, controlled breaths. Imagine your thoughts floating away from your mind and into the infinite universe. Erase the border between you and your environment.
He sat down in a position he had seen before on television, and began to count his breaths.
One, two, three, four. His doctor visit floated away.
One, two, three, four. His family, his work, they evaporated.
One, two, three, four. His breathing slowed, his began to forget his body.
One, two, three, four. The woman stared at him from the back of his brain.
One, two, three, four. The shining green eyes would not look away.
♪Come and smile your cares away
In a far off land in the sun
Your mind won't have time to worry
You'll be having too much fun♪
He gave up and receded into a shower.
