F-F-Fluttering

When the power button fell off Caroline's remote control last night she had never before felt so lonely without the sound of the TV to accompany her nights alone. Resorting to staring into space, or at the unfashionable curtains that her ex-best-friend Kelly recommended, she couldn't remove the nauseating thought that Kelly was now dating her ex-boyfriend.

'I've always got on better with men', Kelly nonchalantly remarked at the outset of their relationship, two and a half weeks ago. Now the thoughts were flooding in…how to resolve the issues that were eating away at both her mind and stomach. She felt a constant presence deep inside her belly, not dissimilar to the nervous f-f-fluttering butterflies most people seem to get from time to time. But this feeling was different, slightly darker, a pervading dread that seemed to be consuming her. Was this depression? She had never considered being depressed before. Always thought it was a fad. Not that she wanted to think about it. Dwelling could only make it worse, and anyway, she was good at putting things to the back of her mind. So, the thought of depression was consciously avoided but the thought of her ex being with Kelly was consciously brought to the forefront.

Her stereo was programmed to wake her up with Wham’s Freedom. As it did so the next morning, she was conscious of feeling only slightly better than she had the night before. Trying not to think about the situation, she poured herself some instant coffee. She preferred instant coffee to the 'bitter' real alternative. After eating a bowl of corn flakes, she checked the post to see if anything interesting had arrived. She was expecting a reply from a recent job application. It was probably out of her league, she thought, and indeed it probably was, but it helped to keep her from thinking of other matters. That was why she loved the TV soaps, as she didn't have to think too much. She always had her routine planned for when she got in from work. She watched every soap on all of the terrestrial channels. However, the remote control problem was something she had to overcome, and soon. Sure, she could physically change the channel at the TV set itself, but she liked to snuggle on the sofa up of an evening from around 7 until 11, when her eyes would become heavy. Anyhow, she put the thought of a night without TV to best place she could think of: some far away recess in her mind…