Going Deep

She tried to lift the words off the floor but their weight, the gravitational pull of them, made it impossible. She used a shovel to lever them up catching a letter here or there but no intact words came to her.

She needed them. Wanted them. But the day held no promise.

In defeat she stretched out on the ground, laid out on the heavy mass, closed her eyes and imagined the words flowing through the pores of her skin, like body cream.

As her heart slowed she could feel herself softening. The tingle of regret, recrimination, and worry loosening like strands of DNA.

She felt images, heard words, and saw the tale that pinned her.

A soft breeze fluttered her shirt.

It asked, was it even true?

She opened her eyes, surprised at the question. That would change everything.

She lifted her hand in the air. The light filtered through the skin between her fingers, light going straight through her.

That had a place in the story, didn’t it?