Her Little Story

The world has been mean, so she has been scared to live. That's why she's spent her days thinking too much. She spent her days thinking, living ideas in her mind so realistically that she didn't need to live it in real life anymore.

And then she'd go on and wonder, "So what else is there to live for?" But she didn't realize she hasn't lived at all.

She's closed her eyes and lived in a dream when all else brushed her shoulders and moved and danced around her.

She sleep-walked to another room, then out the front door, to the neighbor's lawn and sat there ... for a long time. The midnight chill woke her, and she stared at the silver-studded night sky, marvelled:

"This is the sky! A velvet blanket so different from the ceiling in my dreams!"

And she heard the wind through the trees, smelt the scent of life in the grass, felt the dew through her pajamas, which stuck to her skin ...
and she breathed air, which filled her lungs

and her heart.

She looked back at her house and found it small and dinky and grey. Oh, and she had thought that it was the best place in the whole world not so long ago! Why, what has changed?

"I am out of the house. And I am living ... when I least expect it."

She stood up, brushed the grass off her PJ pants, stretched, and felt like moving. She saw the pavement flooded orange from the street lamps, and she thought,

"I want to put my foot on the pavement." And she did.

So she hummed, hummed, hummed a song and walked, walked, walked along the pavement into the night.