The preventive

Mateus had a horror of being unwell. He loathed television and videogames and the numb dead ache that flooded his hindquarters when he sat too long in one place.

When the man in the baseball cap appeared beside him on the bus, Mateus shrank away. He did not enjoy sharing space. He smushed his shoulder into the dirty glass; watched the traffic, counted commuters’ purposeful strides.

The man coughed: one, twice, a phlegmy rattle. He looked like an immigrant. Mateus, feeling fate’s heavy hand on his shoulder, thought: TB, probably.

He held his breath for the rest of his journey.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s