The Space Between

Anticipation. It used to be a treasured time in which I longed for clandestine meetings, for exotic getaways or just simply for what the future held. It was always something exciting, unknown and positive. It was a memorable part of the experience. But now, anticipation is crippling me. I can hardly speak. Itʼs hard to even simply breathe. My death. It is right before my eyes. I donʼt want to anticipate this. I cannot endure this wait. This haunting and unjust ending was never in my cards, not in the anticipated deck that was. Never did I envision, even in my worst nightmares, that I would be here awaiting my own execution for a crime I did not commit. As I share this reality, a shiver shoots down my spine. Did I really use the word reality? This canʼt be. I will be saved. I must believe that. I did nothing wrong. Iʼm the woman who shuddered at the thought of killing spiders. Donʼt they see me? The real me? Isnʼt someone going to run through the cold, iron gates and say this is all a horrible mistake? I need to sit down. I need to run. I need to get to the other side. Please. Donʼt torture me by leaving me here, alone in the quiet, with only this dreaded anticipation beside me. Save me … or just do it already. Do something, I beg you. If you don't, I may die right here in the suffocating space in between.