To Perceive an Image

Fifty-Seven: Images of a Breath of Relief

Maryanland, December 17, 2040, 1:30 AM.

Whoever says alone time after an emotionally exhausting day is the way to go is both right and wrong. Right, because I love being left to my own devices, but fucking loathe being left to my own devices. Does the person not know that I enjoy my company with an added side of hating every second of going through my thoughts?

Wrong because if you know being left alone will make you Koo Koo, then throw a damn party to distract yourself. I would, but I hate parties and people- yeah, no.

With that in mind, I spent copious hours convincing my friends that I was a functioning adult who wanted to spend some time alone to digest everything. However, I requested for them to be on standby in case I become a menace to society as I indulge in said digestion. Being the angels they are, they agreed without a second thought. It was Sunday afternoon when they agreed to this. I ran away with the reassurance of their presence and spent the entire day walking around in random shapes. The amount of Detroit I saw in a single day could single-handedly battle the existing amount I knew. Half of these places were irrelevant to me.

Like what business do I have at a daycare?

The maybe ten or more international markets piqued my interest, though.

I damn near cried when I saw churek at the Arab market.

I used food and the excuse of finding unfamiliar places as distractions, and they did a damn good job.

Like all good things, even distractions have an end, and one has to let reality fall back in full force. I don't know why I find it surprising because it's not. If I, even for once, thought that distractions last forever, then I'm the fool. It's in the word distract, goofy. You lose track of something for a moment, then go back the same way you came. Not shocking, I'm the idiot who believed I turn happy-go-lucky in hours.

A shiver coursed through me as the icy wind dropped to another degree. I better get inside before I become a victim of frostbite. Snow came in full force this year. As always, it's pretty but painful. My sad excuse for a skeletal system doesn't handle the cold well. Winter outfits have to have an extra layer or two underneath. That's what everyone does, but I do it out of fear of aching bones.

I make my way home as a newfound lightheartedness permeates my chest. This doesn't feel like the emotion you feel after you take measures to relax. I feel excited. Why the hell do I feel excited?

I clung to the emotion but put it away in a backpack when something caught my eye.

Someone was standing in front of aunt Debby's house.

I hid behind a car parked in the street and dug out my self-defense keychain from my large pocket. Bless pantsuit pockets for being deeper than my intrusive thoughts.

Let me not point out how similar the person looks to Flynn, just from the silhouette.

Your loved ones are in potential danger, and you're thinking about him?

I think about him all the time, whatever.

Waiting until the alleged assailant has their back toward me, I take slow steps closer and closer. My plan to stay discrete almost failed when I slipped on the ice on the sidewalk, but I steadied myself before I fell on my back. My heart palpitations had increased an unhealthy amount by the time I was a couple of feet away. I don't know if they've caused harm to anyone inside, and I'm not risking letting them know there's anyone inside if they didn't. Although, all my on-the-spot plans involved tazing them, then running inside to inform the rest. Sapphire can throw a mean punch, and aunt Debby can hide with Ruby. I will figure something out. I didn't get this keychain for decoration.