Saturday Story 2025 #19 (No Pain)
Something new on my Patreon. Synopsis below:
Amy has been stuck at home, following a complex orthopedic surgery, but when a package arrives for her girlfriend Rebecca, she opens herself to a mesmerizing world where there’s only bliss. A gentle FF piece.
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An excerpt is available below:
https://www.patreon.com/posts/128641724
The cardboard box was bent on one corner, its brown surface dusty from what seemed like a long journey. Amy held it at arm’s length, her fingers tracing the shipping label with Rebecca’s name printed in bold black letters. Another package. Another impulse purchase from her girlfriend who treated online shopping like a competitive sport.
She dropped the box on the kitchen counter with a soft thud, her curiosity daring it to dig deeper. For just an instant, she considered slicing open the packing tape, peering inside to see what Rebecca had ordered this time. A handbag? Another set of decorative throw pillows? Some obscure kitchen gadgets they did not need?
But no. Rebecca would want to open it herself and reveal her latest acquisition with that excited little squeal she always made. Amy respected that, even if she found the constant consumption quite exhausting. She turned away, leaving the package untouched, waiting for Rebecca’s return.
Her right knee throbbed with a dull, persistent ache, a constant reminder of the complicated orthopedic surgery that had kept her homebound. Four months of physical therapy, of careful movements and exercises that were tedious but essential.
The upcoming return to her design firm loomed like a gray cloud, filling her with a low-grade anxiety that buzzed just beneath her skin. She’d grown accustomed to the quiet rhythms of home – the midday sunlight sliding across her living room floor, the gentle hum of the refrigerator, the occasional chirp of birds outside her window… Work meant fluorescent lights and drawn out conversations that would drain her newly rebuilt strength.
Dr. Martinez had assured her she was ready. “Cleared for full duty,” he’d said during her last appointment, marking something on her chart. However, “ready” was a complicated word in this context. Her body might cooperate, but her mind was a different landscape – tentative, wounded, uncertain of its old capabilities.
She limped to the refrigerator, pulling out a cold pack and pressing it against her surgical scar. The thought of navigating the open-plan office, of explaining her reduced mobility to colleagues who had only seen her through video calls, made her stomach tense. Her team had been supportive during her medical leave, but she knew the unspoken undercurrents, the project redistributions, the subtle shifts in her professional standing. It was going to be a hot mess, and she only liked those between the sheets.
She dragged herself to the sofa and turned on her laptop to check her work email. Sixty-seven unread messages. Sixty-seven tiny reminders that her recovery bubble was about to burst.(…)
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