Knotting her fingers together, the knuckles hardly served to connect digits to her palm as much as they bruised each other like the unfortunate stones caught between disagreeing tectonic plates. The smell of unwashed scalp lingered beneath her fingernails, a unique residue of the very essence of her. The scent had as great a chance of changing its signature odor as the pouchy gut in her stomach from ever separating from her body. Fingers hovering as if above piano keys, they produced nothing. This air is cold and the atmosphere is still, shelving and locking the body into perpetual immobility.
Deadlines rang doorbells in her head. Ding a ling ling ling - R_____ isn’t here right now - please leave a message after the floor opens up beneath you. Thank you and have a pleasant day.
You and I are non sequitors. I have latched myself onto you for too long and now I am prying the metal locks free from each other. With this weight removed, gravity has free reign over my feet and my fingertips will whisper goodbye to yours. When I close my eyes, it makes no difference if I fall or fly.
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