She fell asleep forgetting that she wanted to go through until the very last page. She mistakenly skips to 47, before realizing she got it wrong. Now, sixty minutes before she had to leave, she snuggled in a corner of the bed, refusing to go into whatever it is that will make her go into motion.
She groaned. She just wanted to be at rest so bad.
A rush of wind toyed with their hair, but she pushed it back impatiently as she tore through the whole thing. Her eyes darted left to right, left to right; in quick succession. She drank and swallowed and chewed and digested the words, as rapid as the time and the car had flown.
She quickly changed rides, and as soon as she sat down, she felt annoyed that in some minutes, she’d be walking again. She almost wished she didn’t have hyper reflexes and that she’d miss her stop and find herself very far from where she’s supposed to go; or at least had stayed home, in her corner of the bed. But even then she couldn’t feel at rest, because then an illusory being would take hold of her by her ankles and forcibly drag her off the bed, into the world.
If she had only one day not to be forced into the things she went on motions doing;
She imagined flailing her hands as she’s being dragged, book in hand; and, having an opening, kicked the being in the face.
She almost willed the stop away, but she couldn’t. With a sigh she alighted, and trudged up the path.
In the end, she had to put her favorite world face down anyway.
She contented herself with weaving words instead.
Image from pixabay.com