Always the Same

She ran. Ran as fast as her scrawny legs would carry her, ran as far as her feet would allow her. Where she was going? Nobody knew. She didn’t know either. She had no idea.

Pat, pat, pat, pat. It was the sound of her ragged old tennis shoes against the snow. She once wore those shoes proudly while defeating someone on the opposite side of the tennis court, but that felt like so long ago. Flakes of ice stung her face like a million honeybees falling from the sky. On her body wasn’t much. A sheer black coat. Torn blue jeans. The jewelry her mother had given her before she went away.

Everything was falling apart. There were numerous rips and wrinkles laying within the fabric of the life she was living. It was always the same.

Eventually the burning sensation in her tired legs went away, letting her have the freedom to leave the world and enter as something entirely new. Stopping at a hault, she felt the need to scream as loud as her lungs were capable of. To let go.

It’s exactly what she did.

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