Slip

I should have asked for help, it wouldn't have been a bother. I should have used a stepstool, not a chair. I shouldn't have put anything on the top shelf of the pantry in the first place. I'm not as young as I used to be after all. But now, here I am, sprawled across the kitchen floor, barely able to move.

I reach my hands forward, trying to drag myself forward. My legs aren't working right; maybe I broke my hip? They always say it's a broken hip you have to watch out for at my age. If I can just get to the phone I can get help. Where did I leave it? The table? I might not be able to reach that. Don't think about that. Focus. Just go a little at a time.

I collapse, gasping for breath, trying to ignore what a small distance I've traveled. Screaming would be a waste of time. The neighbors aren't close enough, and I live here alone. When will someone find me, I wonder? I lurch forward a centimeter. I'm supposed to meet Marge for tea tomorrow, but she might think I forgot. Lurch. Let's see, there's band practice on Saturday. Surely someone will notice if I miss that. How long can people go without water? Lurch. Or maybe Henry will call today; he was talking about bringing Maddy and Lucas for a visit.

My arms give out and I stop. Is it getting dark already, or is it just me? Did I hit my head? I think back, but I can't remember over the screaming pain. I wait for my breathing to slow, but I can barely hear it over the buzzing in my ears. I have to stay awake. What do you do to stay awake? I've never had that problem before. At least not like this.

I shudder forward. Minutes. Hours. Seconds. It's all the same, yet so long. The table is only about a foot away now. Just a bit closer and I can get help. My limbs collapse, my head spins, and then I remember. I left it in the living room.