She grabbed a handful of mud and grass from the cold, wet ground from next to her, and kept tightening her hand around it, letting the dirt ooze through her hand. The chunky, chilled, wet, sticky, mud was nirvana between her fingers. How could she not feel so..empty? She hated this dress. She hated the memories that were sewn into it, she people, the places. She wiped her muddied hand on her dress and let it fall back to her side. Not satisfied, she dug her fingers into her forehead and ddrraagggeeddd her fingers down her face, pulling skin down with each angry movement. Finally, she put her palms firmly against the solid ground, and lifted her self up so that she was sitting. Taking a deep breath, she put one knee on the ground and heaved herself up as she felt all her energy and strength quickly drain to the earth under her. She slowly walked up to her house and opened the door.
“Christine!” Her mother said alarmingly, “what happened to you?!”
“Mom, there’s something I have to tell you…”