(WriMuse prompt: Write about someone mentally ill losing control of a bodily function during a blizzard.)
I have to pee.
But I can't. It's snowing outside. The snow is coming down like ash like stars like a cascading waterfall like pee and I have to watch, I have to make sure.
I'm at the window looking out, watching it fall watching it collect and while I've been watching at least three inches have fallen, I can see on the ledge outside my window and that's not even accounting for the bits that fall over the edge and don't collect.
Little fallen flakes, hurtling from the sky to come to rest, briefly, fleetingly, on my window ledge and then—no! You weren't safe, you were close to the edge, and the ground is still thirty feet below my fourth-floor window. Fallen stars spend a brief time on earth trying to fit in with all the other stars, but they're on the edge, and they slip and there's no one to catch them as they fall.
I really have to pee, but I can't. What if the drifts rise to cover the door and there's a fire and no one can get out? How will they get us out? What if an angel comes down in the midst of the snow and the snow is just the dust shaken from its wings as it flies, gleaming in the moonlight, and I'm peeing and so I miss it? What if the angel carries all the fallen snow fallen stars up to heaven but it forgets me because I'm peeing? What if I don't see all the snow fall? Who will note the passing of the flakes that slip over the edge of the ledge? Who will mourn them, if not me, if I'm not there to see them and name them and lift them up to the angels' arms?
I name them like they name hurricanes, Andrew Bessie Clarice Daniel Edward Francesca George Harriet Isolde James Kenneth Lamont Marcia Naomi Opheth why Opheth? Pandora Quentin Ronald Samantha Terrence with two Rs Ursula Veronica Wyatt Xavier Yu just Yu Zoe and start over at Alphonse Bruce Cameron Daniel no I did Daniel already and they're falling too fast, I can't name them all so I clutch my fist to my chest because I don't have a hat and I stand and watch them fall.
Maybe it's not so bad, falling from the ledge. Many fallen stars never reach the ledge, they fall all the way to the courtyard and there's so many down there. Some of them blow across the others like winding snakes, among them but not of them. Maybe it's better to be among the multitude, but who names them? Who notes their passing when they fall or when they melt if spring ever comes?
I name the ones on my ledge. David not Daniel Elizabeth Frederick Grant Harold Imelda Josephine Karen Larry Maeve I like Maeve it's a pretty name the name of one of the nurses who's pretty.
I really have to pee. Nora Omar Phillip with two Ls Qu Qu Qu Querty maybe it's not a name but it is now Rachael with an extra A Sarah Thomas Umar that's a lot like Omar, maybe they're twins, but no, no two snowflakes are alike.
Or are they? The ones here on my ledge, they're the different ones, the ones who cling to the sky, resisting incarnation and desensitization and conformity and they keep us up here on the ledge except the ones that slip away.
I can't go to the bathroom or I'll miss them. And so I let the warm wet pee slide down my legs like falling snow, pooling and puddling by my feet, nameless drops all alike they aren't special like the snow. Like me.