She had to come across town.

She had to walk out her door, pass by the sport shop she once bought some stupid protein powder, she needed to mirror herself in a window full of jewellery, cross the road in fear of the homeless man yelling at his dragging feet. She had to listen to four songs for fifteen minutes and ten seconds, the last word being “you”, the last piece so pleasing yet versatile to deserve a place in her 2020, Karaoke beasts, and Running playlists.

She needed to feel dizzy and stop for a soda from the conveniece store. She had to prefer the zebra over the underpass. She had to stop on a bench in the park even if her uncompromising workout scheme could not allow that.

But she needed to be there.

Over, under.

Looking up, towards the sun filtering through the leaves of the same, yet different, tones of green. A single ray escaped that flexible gate, landing over her naked arm.

So much light.

Evident. Secret.

Who wanted to witness that amount of flesh? Surely, not her.

She strived. She bit her lips, immagining blood flooding out of them, the amount of matter she desired to get rid of.

She had her eyes closed. The roaring cars in the background, the sweeping dead leaves, her saliva descending her throat.

Then, she had not moved.