She gets frustrated, sometimes, at the foggy pane between who she feels she is, and what others seem to see.
Rub rub rub, goes the sleeve of her shirt, pulled forward, taut, over her knuckles, as she wipes at the condensation of inaccurate perceptions. (Is the condensation on my side or theirs?)
She falls back to sit on the edge of a chair. She tells herself that she’s creating this urgency to show who she really is, the full picture. It’s not that important, she mouths, head dipping, bangs descending like a curtain across her face.
But the tension in her body spikes and tingles and she’s up again –darting back to the glass, pushing against it. She thinks to heave something heavy through its surface (sometimes that’s what it takes….) but in her pause she notices a doorway.
She walks, slowly, over to it. She’s never noticed it before. Or she’s never thought it an option.
Once she’s in its archway, a strong breeze curls around her, lifting her clothes slightly, her spirits with them.
She’ll walk through. She doesn’t know will happen after that, but it’s better than the glass.
Linking up with Lisa-Jo for Five Minute Friday.