23
Rue
I sit up with a gasp, my fingers raking down my throat. For a moment it’s like I’m underwater, trying to breathe. I choke, strangling on nothing at all.
Shutting my eyes, I struggle to remember how to breathe. And then suddenly, I inhale a great, gasping lungful of air. Then another, then another. The relief is immense, dragging each breath in with gratitude.
I tremble as I look around my room. White linens, light-colored stone, a white cushioned chair. There is something colorful on the chair, something that definitely wasn’t there when I went to sleep.
Trying to control my shaking, I push back the covers and get out of bed. My lace panties and tee shirt cling to my body, dampened by sweat. Still, the tropical air feels good as I move to investigate.
I walk to the chair, the
