by Nancy Stohlman
The scissors slide easily through the thick denim of my favorite blue jeans, from ankle to waist, ankle to waist, as one leg then the other falls away. He slices up the middle of my thin cotton shirt like tissue paper, unwraps me, my pink Victoria’s Secret bra a final ribbon snipped and spilling to the ground, leaving me naked. Exposed.
Are you having trouble breathing? he asks with kind brown eyes.
A little, on one side, I whisper.
We’ll be there soon he says, gently placing an oxygen mask as the ambulance sirens rattle the warm evening air.
Published in 100 Word Story. Read the original here