she

suddenly she blinked her eyes. the wind felt so strong in her face. she was... running. the realization set in and her feet slowed to a walk. one of her toenails had broken in half and the soft fleshy underside was bleeding on the asphalt where she stopped.
was she crying? no... no that was the rain. it was a greasy rain; the kind of thick drops that make windshields blurry no matter how strong the wipers are. a drop crawled down her face, making a shiny, jagged line from her high-set cheekbones to her jawline. it dripped on her tshirt.
she was fully conscious now. too conscious. she was aware of everything. the arrhythmic beating inside her chest, the screech of a bat (almost indistinct through the mugginess of the storm), the slight smell of day old hair products and the clinging of fabric on her legs.

steam rose from the grassy area beside her. she imagined a bog full of quicksand and quick death.

she stepped into the grass. it felt like heaven after the sharp pinch of concrete on her bare feet. a tree shielded her from the rain. it was not a bog, nor quicksand. she lifted her face to the sky, her thick mascara matting her lashes together and coating her eyelids.

she stepped back on the sidewalk. heaven was not for her.