“Your call is important to us. A representative will be with you soon.”
Relax. Someone will answer. There's time. Feet up. Concentrate.
Old pop on the line. Something breathy about breathing. Oh, the irony.
Ringing at last. “OxyGen Supply! This is Pamela, how can I help you?” Pamela's giddy with corporate air.
“Oxy's shut off.” Can't breathe. “Suite 6392, Aquidia Building.”
“Name please?”
Name. “Marla Micheals?” Right?
“Oh my. Ms Micheals, your account is in arrears. Are you prepared to remedy that?”
Judgemental bitch. “Yeah.” Gonna die.
“Great, I'll transfer you to billing. Hold please!”
That figures.
...breathe...just breathe...
Thanks for reading my story! It was fun to write this one, the idea crystallized quickly so I ran with it.
I missed the last round of the #100-words contest, so I challenged myself to add the old prompt words (someone, figure) in addition to the current ones.
As for the particular song our oxygen-deprived on-hold heroine has to listen to, I refer of course to the lovely "Breathe (2 am)" by Anna Nalick. It never quite made No. 1 on the hit list. It really has very little to do with air, and more to do with enduring life's troubles. But it's a nice enough earworm, if you like breathy singer-songwriter mid-00's pop/rock.
ANYWAYS.
Good luck to all the other entrants! I'm looking forward to reading everyone else's stories.
all images from Pixabay.com. Cover image created using Canva