Belinda Burpwell's Arc

Chapter 4 of 5

Belinda set the empty bottle on the slope of her belly and pushed Aldric's hands off. Her stomach felt like a drum someone had overfilled. The next pastry sat in his palm. She did not take it. The dark-haired woman was at the door now, one hand on the frame, watching. Aldric finally noticed her and froze. "I'm done in here," Belinda said. She burped into his face. It came out long and wet and rolled his hair back. He blinked. She did not say sorry. She stood up off the bench, swayed once, and steadied a hand on her belly. The basket of bottles still sat at her feet, half full. She picked it up by the handle. She walked past Aldric and past the woman in the white dress without looking at either. At the threshold she let out a fart that lasted three steps onto the walk. The woman made a small sound behind her. Belinda kept moving. Her belly was packed so tight she could not bend at the waist. If she did not get some gas out, she would have to stop eating, and she was not going to stop eating. Across the walk stood a row of metal pods with sliding membrane doors. A sign above them read for waiting. She pressed the panel on the nearest one. The door peeled open. Inside sat a padded orange chair shaped to hold a body leaned back. She lowered herself into it, set the basket on the floor, and the door sealed shut behind her with a soft hiss. She dug through the bottles in the basket until she found a folded paper tucked between two of them. The header read Gas Mastery Formula. The steps were short. Sit back. Press both palms flat below the ribs. Push down in slow counts. Open the throat. Let each burp run its full length before starting the next. Belinda leaned the chair back, planted her hands, and pushed. The first burp came up loud and long and shook the pod wall. She did not close her mouth until it ended. She pushed again. Another rolled out, longer. She kept the count. Six. Ten. Fifteen. Her belly softened under her palms an inch at a time. When she stopped, the drum was a sack again. She could bend. She could breathe. She uncorked a bottle from the basket and drained half of it in one pull, and a fresh burp came up clean and easy. She picked up a wrapped parcel, peeled back the cloth, and bit in. The pod's light glowed orange around her. Outside, somewhere past the membrane door, Aldric was probably still standing in his clinic with his pastry in his hand. Belinda chewed and reached for the next bottle.