The Reluctant Spectator


Emily was pretty disgusted with herself. She scowled, grunted, and tried to mop up with her t-shirt, but it was no use. She was a God Damn mess. She laid flat on the grass with her arms and legs splayed out wide. It almost looked like she was about to do snow angels on the perfectly manicured lawn. Emily gazed at the cobalt sky and tried to concentrate on the puffy clouds. Her rib cage heaved up and down as she attempted to regain control of her breath. Enough. Why was she so upset? It’s not like turning thirty-five was a surprise. It comes right after thirty-four and right before thirty- six. She took three more long breaths, this time counting to fifteen. She wiped away the tears with her sleeve and stood up on the scratchy green grass. She tried to control her messy long hair, but the bike ride had made it unmanageable. A bit dizzy she whirled and then marched up to the back door opening it with a creak. She was careful to not be too noisy, but the rickety old door wouldn’t cooperate.

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