The virus invades dreams.
I’m in a labyrinth. She’s laughing, attired in mucus green, chasing me through sterile halls.
I turn off the news. Try to hit the sack earlier.
I even walk at sunset. Soothe myself in tangerine, pale blue, and lavender shadows.
The virus throws me in the ground, laugh track blasting. She flings layer after layer of dirt over me, the world fading, replaced by blackness.
I stop sleeping. Watch Curb Your Enthusiasm and Step Brothers, laugh at Larry David’s Wagner concerts on neighbors’ lawns and Will Ferrell’s bicycle fights. I laugh until I cry.
I’m not dreaming.
Yash Seyedbagheri is a graduate of Colorado State University’s MFA program in fiction. His story, “Soon,” was nominated for a Pushcart. Yash has also had work nominated for The Best Small Fictions and Best of the Net.
A native of Idaho, Yash’s work is forthcoming or has been published in The Journal of Compressed Creative Arts, Write City Magazine, Café Lit, and Ariel Chart, among others.
Twitter: @dudesosad