She cups the edge of the world in her hands, blowing little ripples into memories before releasing the sand-like pillars of wisdom into the air. As she watches her existence blow away with a whim, her heart begins to tremble in its cage of ribs, thick with regret.
Do I want to?
In front of her is empty space; tendrils reaching out to accept her into a thousand lost balloons and the laughter of forgotten children.
Behind her is her childhood stretched out in gum wrappers and torn-apart teddybears, flashing neon lights that warn her away from The Light but she steps forward, she walks on...
We tried to hold her back; grabbing her thin arms while she fought us with teeth bared. We screamed Reasons Why at her, trying to convince her otherwise.
Today she is free.
Today she makes choices.
Today... today could be the last today, never a yesterday, never to see tomorrow.
Or not.
Writers
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- Flying Buffalo Sauce
- It's like... sauce that's untaste-able. It's really good, but... you can't have it.
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