“I wiped the sweat clean off with the back of my hand. I heaved and leaned down towards the plastic billowing in the wind once more. It might’ve looked graceful had I not felt their challenge radiating like a polluting pulse.”
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“But when I’m failed, my cracked pieces are abandoned on the ground for months, years even-am I allowing my brokenness?”
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“I could smell disaster from a mile away, but I didn’t realize just how in the middle of the cross-fire I’d be.”
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“I put my arms behind my back, but I’d forgotten how to raise them. He asked me if the handcuffs were hurting me. I don’t remember if I answered or not, but I hated the handcuffs.”
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