She woke up and looked over to her clock. It beeped and yelled and screamed at her. 7:00am. She hit snooze. The snooze button shut the clock up for 7 minutes at a time.
Then she turned it off. Her clock was 10 minutes fast.
She meant to roll out of bed, and start her day. Instead the covers came up over her head. Company came into her room at 8:10.
"It's almost 8 o'clock!"
She was tired of counting minutes and hours and seconds.
It seemed to her lately that her time was mostly spent crying over cups of coffee for reasons she couldn't explain.
That's a lie. She could explain them, but no one would quite understand her explanation.
She walked around her home, like a ghost. She wouldn't look or talk to anyone, and when there wasn't anyone to ignore, she'd just talk to herself.
No matter how loud she turned the music, it wouldn't drown out the sounds on cracking pipes and radiators that made her crawl in her own skin, and it deffinetly couldn't hide the fact that the walls around her were pulsing and breathing.
She tried to hide these facts.
Her arms were sore and bruised, from constantly hitting them against air filled sacks made of leather and plastic. She looked at her tiny bruises, and they reminded her of left over marks from needles and blood tests. She prayed she'd never have to get a blood test again, and smile that in one hour she would be throwing herself onto a piece of plastic, and flying down an ice covered hill.
She was ready to fly, and she didn't care if she broke all her bones in the process.