Breathe

In today's story, Breathe, life unfolds one breath at a time

Today's prompt was inspired by my other job, which is teaching yoga. Breath is a key part of a yoga practice. Breathing practices can help you feel centered and better prepared to handle all aspects of your life. 

As always, this story was written from the prompt, with no planning and very little editing. If you enjoy today's story, please share it with your friends and leave a review for Freely Written. Thank you!


More about Susan Quilty

Susan Quilty mainly writes novels, including two standalone novels and her current YA series: The Psychic Traveler Society.  Susan's short stories for Freely Written are created during quick writing breaks and shared as a way to practice her narration skills before she dives into recording audio versions of her novels.

Website:  SusanQuilty.com
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The Freely Written Book: Freely Written Vol. 1
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Transcript

Below is the transcript for Season 1, Episode 108 of Freely Written, a podcast by author Susan Quilty:

Welcome to Freely Written where a simple prompt leads to a little unplanned fiction.

[Light piano music]

Hi, friends! I’m Susan Quilty and today’s prompt is Breathe.

As you may or may not know, I am a both a writer and a yoga teacher. My yoga practice, including regular meditation, helps me stay centered and grounded in all areas of my life. I love sharing yoga with others, and one aspect of that is teaching people how to breathe. 

That might mean specific pranayama techniques or simply reminding students to keep breathing during meditation or asana, which is the physical yoga practice. 

In short, I talk about breath a lot. Yet, I was surprised to see that I’ve never used the word breathe as a writing prompt. In fact, I searched through my past episodes twice to be sure! And then I decided the time has come. 

As a reminder, or if you’re new to Freely Written, here’s how my process for writing podcast stories works: I sit down with a chosen prompt and write whatever comes to mind, with no planning and very little editing, and then I share that story with you. 

While the stories aren’t polished to perfection, I hope you’ll enjoy them and maybe be inspired to try some freewriting and see what comes up for you.

Here’s today’s story: 

Breathe

Sam stepped back from the curb a second before the car sped by. Breathe, he told himself, feeling his heart race beneath the cross strap of his messenger bag.

It was drizzling and Sam had been distracted by a woman across the street fumbling with her umbrella. Breathe, he reminded again, listening to the patter of rain on the brim of his hat. 

Look what you almost did! A voice whisper-shouted through his mind. You nearly got killed looking at a girl!

Breathe, he whispered back, letting the word softly escape his lips as it pushed the voice away. 

A moment later, Sam checked the street in both directions—twice—then steadily walked across the street. He placed one foot after the other, staying alert as he shortened the distance and eventually stepped firmly onto the sidewalk. 

It wasn’t that close of an accident, he told himself. The car had honked, and he’d jumped back, but it was unlikely he would have been hit if neither of those things had happened. Yes, he had stepped off the curb, but he hadn’t rushed into traffic. It was just that first step—the preparation to cross—that he had rushed. He had a way of doing that, he realized, thinking back to yesterday’s staff meeting. 

They had been sitting around the conference table, listening to Brad’s new client breakdown, and Sam had leaned forward. An idea had come to mind, and he’d wanted to share it, yet he wasn’t going to blurt it out. He was going to wait until Brad had finished speaking. It was just that moment of preparation, the fraction of a second when the urge to do something kicked in and he hadn’t quite restrained himself yet. Brad had noticed and Sam had sat back quickly, ashamed as if he had interrupted. 

Thinking of that moment, Sam’s palms began to itch. Breathe, he thought as he placed both hands on the smooth surface of his desk. The desktop seemed to absorb the twitchy energy. He imagined the faux-wood grain drawing more away with each of his slow exhalations. 

Brad’s voice carried from the left, gaining volume as he neared Sam’s cubicle. By the time he came into sight, Sam was efficiently typing on his keyboard, eyes glued to the screen, before shifting to take in his visitors.

Brad was not alone. He had a smartly dressed woman standing beside him. Her crisp blouse and the stylish barrette pinning back one side of her hair pegged her as a new client. Someone Brad was bringing around to meet the creatives. It happened often enough. 

Sam knew he wasn’t expected to say much, just a polite hello and briefly answer any questions about his work. Briefly, Brad had often stressed, knowing many of his designers would be all too happy to launch into detailed explanations of the minutia that went into an animated film. 

“Do you have a purple umbrella?” Sam asked the moment the woman was introduced. Sheila. A name he hadn’t come across since elementary school.

The question had slipped out naturally and Sheila had smiled with half her mouth, her eyes twinkling as she gently raised an eyebrow. 

“Yes, I do,” she answered easily. Sam was already nodding. 

“I saw you across the street this morning,” he said, without noticing the look of alarm on Brad’s face. 

“It has a tricky catch,” she replied, as if knowing exactly when Sam had seen her. “Luckily your building has an awning, or I would have been soaked before I got it to close.”

They laughed and their eyes held fast. 

“It’s stopped now,” Brad interjected, a little too loudly. “The rain, I mean.” 

Sam glanced his way, finally seeing Brad’s firm set jaw and warning glare. The look surprised him into realizing what he was doing. Casually chatting with this unknown woman as if she were an old friend. 

Breathe, Sam told himself, trying to create space in the moment. Allowing Brad to take charge and finish his introductions. The office air held a tinge of Freon, polyester carpet, and the indefinite potpourri of reheated lunches. 

That Friday night, the air around Sam carried a different scent. Beer and wood polish. French fries and after shave. Yet Sam hardly noticed. His attention was on Sheila as she sipped her pint and laughed with an open mouth. 

He had arrived at the bar 10 minutes early and found her already waiting, reading a book calmly, without quick glances toward the door. He admired her ease. The bartender said something as he delivered her drink, and her reply had made him laugh. Sam had hurried in then, so eager to be on the receiving end of her smile that he forgot to breathe.

Six months later, Sam taped the last of his boxes shut and looked around his apartment with no regret. He was ready to leave his roommate behind and take the plunge. Shacking up, as his dad had called it. Breathe, he reminded, but it was more to contain his excitement than quiet his nerves. Sometimes you just know, he told himself with a smile. 

Unless you’re wrong, another voice whispered worryingly, but Sam brushed it away. 

A week before their one-year anniversary, Sam sat home alone, nursing a beer. Sheila’s work dinner had stretched into drinks and now it was nearly 10 o’clock. 

Breathe, Sam encouraged his body as he looked at the buildings across the street. She’ll be home soon, he reassured himself. This is part of her job. 

She met you at a job, the other, unkind voice reminded.

Shut up! Sam snapped, too agitated to focus on his breath.

When her keys jangled in the lock an hour later, Sam picked up his book and opened it to a random page. By the time she’d taken off her shoes, he’d dropped the book and had started pacing. 

“I’m so tired,” she sighed, crossing the room to wrap her arms around Sam’s waist. “Longest day ever!”

Sam lowered his face to her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo mixed with smoke and a hint of bourbon. 

Breathe, he advised himself. Breathe her in and never let her go.

Sam arranged a hot air balloon for their anniversary and carried a ring box in his pocket. But he didn’t propose in the air or during their post-flight champagne toast. He carried the ring box all through dinner and during the cab ride home. 

Back in their apartment, he stood by the window, again staring at the buildings across the street.

Sheila joined him, sliding an arm around his waist and nestling into the arm he had draped across her shoulder. 

“What are you thinking?” she asked him without looking away from the city lights. 

“I’m reminding myself to breathe.” Sam’s words were shaky, and her heart began to flutter.

“You need that reminder?” Her voice was low and steady.

“Sometimes,” he admitted, though she already knew that.

“The answer is yes,” she told him. “If that helps.”

“It does,” he said, letting out a long exhale and pulling the small box from his pocket.

“Breathe,” Sam said out loud, holding Sheila’s hand as she panted rapidly. 

“Breathe,” he repeated, feeling helpless against the sight of fear in her eyes. 

“It’s time,” the doctor said. “Give us a good push!”

And Sheila tried. Her breath shook as her energy faded.

“Almost there,” the doctor said, though Sam no longer believed him.

Breathe, he pleaded in silent desperation as he saw Sheila slump against the pillows in utter exhaustion. 

“I can’t,” she whispered softly on what seemed to be her last breath.

“You can!” Sam insisted. “You have to! Just breathe. Keep breathing.”

“One more, Sheila,” the doctor promised. “One more good one.”

With eyes locked, Sam and Sheila took the deepest breath of their lives. 

A moment later, Sheila collapsed against the pillows. Her face went slack, and Sam clutched her hand. Behind his back, a baby cried. Sheila’s eyes opened with pure joy.

“Breathe,” she told Sam. “We’re about to meet our son.”

The End

Thank you for taking this story break with me. If you are enjoying Freely Written, please share it with your friends. If you have a writing prompt suggestion, let me know! You can connect with me through social media or through my website, SusanQuilty.com. 

On my website you will also now find monthly blog posts with commentary on the stories I share here on Freely Written. And, of course, you can also learn about my novels and other projects. Links are in the show notes. 

Until next time, try a little free writing of your own. Let go of any planning and see where your imagination takes you. 

[Light piano music]