IN THE ABSENCE OF COMFORT FOOD

The room was personal, but it was filled with strangers. They had kind eyes at least. Many had small books clasped tight in their hands, pulled to their chests. “This will become your second Bible.” They agreed, bobbing their heads so fast she didn’t know who needed convincing more. They believed you still needed the original one too. Her stomach had sunk days earlier and it still hadn’t had the chance to rise. The pandemic prevented the possibility of coffee and cookies to be set out, and her shame grew at the need for comfort. A bell rang and the room was starkly quiet. She thought they might hear her heart racing. Was she doing the right thing, could she have been wrong to come here? They asked her what her name was and what qualified her presence in that personal space. She opened her mouth and her stomach began to rise again, but this time too high. Her face flushed red by an explosion of unpleasant feelings. “He drank.” She said finally. “And he hit me.”

Laura Azode is a high school English teacher, writer, and mom living in Houston, TX. She enjoys writing about uncomfortable truths and exploring human emotions. In her spare time, catch her reading, baking, or spending time with the family.