This was written for the girlontheedge prompt Handle, to which I wrote a six sentence story about someone flying off the handle and wrote Karen with a twist, going a little more into the psyche of the character, and allude to something more being at play.
It was as if I was outside myself, watching this snarling screaming wretch of a person humiliate herself as she berated the poor innocent shop girl.
I knew I had completely flown off the handle, and yet I was unable to stop as if there was something else in that body making it move as I simply observed.
It wasn’t the first time this had happened, and I was beginning to suspect that I was in fact possessed, after all there was no better explanation for this, this complete loss of control.
The small voice in the back of my mind that whispered an alternative was squashed under the intensity of my belief, and the words of my diagnosis were dismissed as mere drivel.
I fell back into myself and gathered what was left of my dignity as I loudly declared that I would never step foot in this establishment again, and I accepted the cheers of nearby patrons as support for my actions.
I sat in the car, gasping for breath, and with a sinking feeling in my stomach wondered what I would tell my husband about why I had been gone for two hours and yet come home without a single package to show for it…