When Breath Becomes Fragile
Morning did not arrive gently. It came broken. Maya woke to a sharp, unfamiliar emptiness in her chest—as though the air around her had thinned overnight, as though breathing had become something distant, something her body no longer remembered how to do. She inhaled. Nothing. Not enough. Her chest tightened painfully, a crushing pressure spreading inward, squeezing, suffocating. Her eyes flew open. Her hand shot to her chest instinctively. Air. She needed air. But every breath came shallow. Incomplete. Like her lungs refused to expand fully. “Adela…” Her own voice was barely a whisper. Then— The coughing started. Violent. Uncontrollable. Her body jerked forward as the cough tore through her, harsh and relentless. She gasped in between, trying to breathe, trying to steady
- Writer
