cowardice · 7:56pm
She looked out her window. The storm, even more frightful than before, showed no signs of stopping. It worried her greatly, not just for her own sake, but for those of her friends. Her family. Her eyes returned to the cup of tea before her.
She couldn't do anything about it. With the noisy slamming of water against the building she sat in and the cracking and booming of thunder, her nerves were as taut as the strings of a violin. She had neither the strength nor the courage to brave such an onslaught, and she knew that all too well. Her unease fueled a reservoir deep within her that had been left untended for a long time. Worries. Concerns. Doubts
And yet, in the midst of this chaos, both internal and external, there was a thread of hope, of ignorance. She grasped for that lonely strand, clinging to an idea of bravery, of solidity. It lured her to it, a proposed means of escape from this pointless introspection, a way out of her little well of misery. A chance to go on a bit longer without having to give up the pretense of relaxation, of peace. An opportunity.
She set down the cup, stood, and walked across the room to the door. It seemed to take longer than usual, though she couldn't for the life of her understand why. Perhaps she was slipping into madness already, she thought in a weak attempt at cheering herself up, a little half-hearted giggle leaving her lips.
She stood near the exit nervously, her robe clinging to a coat that hadn't quite dried. The large window seemed more imposing up close. From this angle, she saw, to her dismay, that the rain was falling heavily over the entire town. The view of other buildings were blurry, distant and fogged through the glass. She could hardly see anything at all.
What's the point of worrying yourself to death?, she asked herself. Everything is going to be fine. Twilight will make sure the girls are all right. She's your friend, and this storm is no match for her. These reassurances, however, did little to quell the storm inside herself, anxiety brewing and crashing against frustration and worries, worries, worries. She felt lightheaded.
But something stopped her from returning to her work, or her couch. A strange feeling of urgency, of discomfort.
Something was wrong.
Terribly, horribly wrong.