She been alone in this place for a long time, how long she wasn’t really aware now. Sometimes, it seemed like it been a short time, other times it seemed like years. Things seemed fuzzy and hard to keep track of now. Her mind wasn’t the same as it used to be. It happened when she was thirteen, the accident that got her in this state. It often flashed in front of her eyes. It was so painful, it was hard to think of.
Have you ever noticed that time passes faster when we aren’t aware of it? I sneak a look at the antique clock on the wall, vaguely aware of the loud kids and their poor parents as they hurriedly move past or rather are dragged away by their children. 2:45. Just fifteen more minutes.
Any half-decent expert will tell you that there are numerous things you should never say to a gurzzle. They are unusually touchy animals and tend to respond to any form of offense—intended or otherwise—with quick, decisive and invariably violent action.
I can feel their warmth. The sweat laden bodies in contortion with each other feeling the natural wonders of their youth burdened by only the mindset that at some hour he or she must return to society discarded, but fresh, transcended, but devastated because perfection is violent.