Laughter

Short, inventive description of how laughter feels.

Laughter brews and bubbles on my jittery mouth. I latch onto the sensation like a leech, hoping that it clutches my insides with its invasive fingers. It builds, like a crescendo, and eventually boils over. My pit rumbles, and the noise explodes from my gaping jaws. Doubled-over, I try to gulp air. Instead, I writhe in dionysian delight like a giddy maenad. Cough. Splutter. My vision’s sloppy-wet, like a dog’s lopping tongue�"there are no crocodiles here. I inhale, slow-like. I try to squeegee my eyes and end up lubing my fingers. A lingering snicker escapes. The exit door shuts. I smile.

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