She just stared at the truck It was a glaring reminder, when she allowed it to be, of being mired in wuicksand. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Being rooted could seem like a good thing like when people are said to be grounded. But it really wasn’t. It was being stuck.
It was all rusted and she felt the need often for a tetanus shot. She was run ragged. It was all ruinous. But there was no need to suffer so. Today she was going to take that truck and sink it into the lake. Then she was going to disappear and become a butterfly.