Looped in a Zorb by Noémi Scheiring-Oláh
Abuzz with excitement resembling our first date, we step inside, one leg after the other, the plastic orb squeaking and bouncing under our toes as it begins to roll, down and down, turning the hillside into mashed peas, Aaah-oh-my-god-oh-my-god-aaah, we scream and laugh, limbs tangling, parts colliding, pace accelerating, round and round and round, one of us goes head-, the other butt-first, tumbling in the washer bringing out all the dirt; and what was fun at first, now it’s a clenched fist, unwelcomed bits penetrate each other’s orbits, elbow-in-gut, thumb-in-ear, hair-in-nose, pee-on-floor, sneeze-in-tees, belt-buckle biting the flesh above the pubic bone bubbling out like distrust, rust settles on lust, pride cancels apologies, game nights, ladies’ nights, hurts over flirts, blanket-on-couch, luggage-on-bed, bitch, dick, slam, shatter, ove—.
The bloated ball stops at the bottom.
We clamper out. Bruised.
One of us vomits. The other sits, gripping a blade of grass.
Birds sing their usual songs. Sun flashes.
The snaking track we left behind pushes deep into the turf.
Our eyes catch each other, electric.
From a small flat near Budapest, Hungary, Noémi now is a nomad in a small world, currently pinned to Milan, Italy. Her work has appeared in Ellipsis Zine, Reflex Fiction, FlashFlood, The Write-In, and Writers’ HQ’s Flash Face-Off reading events. Irregular tweets: @itssonoemi Virtual home in need of renovation: noemiwrites.com