Exhaustion

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by GibbonsJMa

by GibbonsJMa

Air is expressed from weak lungs. Weary eye lids fight their own weight. Collapsed shoulders pull tight skin from a slender neck. Such poor posture; such an unladylike gait. Amanda stumbles up the stairs to her office. Her feet drag over each step like they have lost feeling at the knees. When she reaches the landing, she takes a shallow breath and pushes open the door. Her ballerinas drag along the marble tiled distance to her desk. She tilts her head and rubs her temple as she processes the peculiar sight before her. Her desk is cleaner than she'd left it, with fewer folders also. There is a gift basket and a plethora of cards in the space in front her computer. Carelessly dropping her body into her chair, she bows her head on the cards and cries.

* * *

"Hi good morning ma'am, my name is Amanda Niles. I'm calling from Active Inc. How are you today? ... Hello ma'am, ma'am?" Amanda kisses her teeth and mumbles, "I really need to get a new job."

She looks over her list of prospects and sighs. Taking up her mug, she heads to the breakroom. Her presence brings silence to the room. It is as if she is such delicate porcelain that their mere breath could break her. Amanda makes her way to the empty coffee machine and brews a fresh pot. Leans against the counter, impatiently tapping her foot while she waits. The sound of Joanna's heels crossing the distance between the tables and the counter breaks the silence.

"How are you doing?" Joanna seems uncertain of the words leaving her mouth.

"I'm fine."

"That's good. And Kris and Kenrick?"

"They're doing as best as they can."

The coffee finishes and Amanda pours her cup. "I have to get back." Her cheeks try to force his lips upward. With her body half through the door, the chatter resumes.

* * *

Amanda allows herself to fall into warm arms. She lets out a deep groan and cries on her husband's shoulder. He holds her.

"I don't want to go to work anymore."

Kenrick nods and holds her a little tighter. A restless cry causes her to lift up her head.

"I'll get it," she whispers.

In the baby room, she picks up her four month old son and rocks him in her arms. Sitting in her rocking chair, she soothes him.

"You miss Kanya too, don'tyou Kris. Yeah, mummy does a lot." Amanda looks across the room at the twocribs: one pink and unused- a princess' and one blue and boisterous- afighter's.