Bea and Me
Katherine Roth
December 17, 2024
7 Comments
Editor’s Note: This piece was a finalist in the Pulse writing contest, “On Being Different.”
On the night Bea’s chest pain began—when the heaviness like a fist took her breath away, the beads of sweat gathering on her forehead—it frightened her, as it did not stop. She was alone, and as she reached for the phone, she paused. Who should she call?
The pain increased. She reluctantly dialed 911. She mumbled the answers to the operator and remembered to open her door before collapsing on the couch.
