My own hands are betraying me. I watch the water in my glass ripple, and I know it is happening again. I grip the glass a little tighter, trying to stop the movement, but it’s no use. I place it on the counter and sink to the floor.

The shaking spreads. It goes up my arms until it reaches the rest of my body. I hug my knees to my chest and squeeze my eyes shut. I do not cry out when I accidentally bite my tongue.

I rifle through my mind, trying to figure out why this is happening. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to. It’s the Friday before an empty weekend, so I shouldn’t be stressed. I ran today like I always do. I’ve been good and haven’t had any ­caffeine. Why now?

I’m still shaking too hard to move. Little red crescents rise up on my skin where my nails cleave my palms. No one calls. The doorbell does not ring. All I can do is hold on and wait.

Eventually, the shaking subsides enough for me to stand. I keep one hand firmly on the countertop while I straighten my shirt and push back my hair. I pick up my glass and take a long, slow sip. It’s over.

There is no one here but me.


Writer’s note: We don’t know what causes my shaking, but my doctor thinks it might be anxiety.