My hand wouldn’t type. I tried several times, but my hand wouldn’t type, except maybe random shit that didn’t do anything. “Hold still, fingers, and do what I’m telling you to do!”
I was happy I didn’t say that out loud, everyone would have thought I was nuts, talking to my fingers. I tried several more times, before I realized my hand was warning me I was bordering on a panic attack, if not already in the midst of one.
“Step back, dude. Step back.” I stepped back from the computer on the workbench. Just one step, but it put it out of my reach, and left my hand hanging in air. “Breathe.” I took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. “Again.” I repeated the deep breath.
My hand was hanging in the air, still, its fingers visibly shaking, clearly not stable, and not calm. “I’ve got work to do, I can’t be dealing with this right now!”
Another deep breath, and I forced calmness from my shoulder, down the length of my arm to my wrist, and then my hand, and watched the shaking slowly stop. “Better.”
It was time to step back up to the workbench, and pick up where my fingers had stopped working.
That’s when the phone rang. Of course, that’s when it would ring. Me on the verge of coming apart at the seams was the perfect time for some helpless without their computer human to call and ask if it was ready yet, and plead for us to finish it so they could get their work done that night.
“Computer Repair Center, can I help you,” I answered the damn phone. It was frightening how calm my voice was, with a hint of glad to hear from you optimism in it.
Sure enough, it was one of the customers, begging us to fix their computer first, “I have a presentation at work tonight, at eight. It’s on that computer. I’m desperate.”
“I’ll do the best I can.” Nice, calm answer, that defused the anger on the other end of the line, and left me wondering how I to complete seven hours of work on a computer in under three hours.
That’s when the manager walked in, stopped in front of a particular computer, and gave this order, “The client just called me, wanting to know why their computer isn’t fixed. Told them I’d make sure it was the first one we got off the bench.” So, he looked right at me, “They approved a restore, and updates. That takes three hours. Get on it.”
My hand started shaking again, while I looked for the operating system installation media. Of course, I couldn’t find any. “If I find out who’s been walking off with the installation media, I’m gonna kill them!”
And that’s when everyone got as far away from me as they could. “He wants to burn the whole building down again, y’all. Such a short temper, that one.”
497 Words
@mysoulstears
For week 16 of Ever Addams weekly #EVERyTuesdayWordplay Flash Fiction prompt. Sometimes, sensory overload triggers panic attacks. Life’s a headache sometimes, isnt’ it. Go read the other stories for prompt #16.
My Soul's Tears 