Thoughts running round and round in her head. Paint. Break. Tear. Cry. Fear. Wild colors. Jeer. Pastels. Imagine. She couldn’t. Chop chop. Frenetic. Frantic. Frazzled.
It was going to be ok. It had to be. Rulers and measures were all that she had left to go by. But it may not be enough. But it had to be. The bough was about to bend and break. Teardrops piling up in the ducts. She wanted to taste their saltiness. She was ready. Maybe. Maybe not