May 1, 2020
It's 8 p.m. and the sun is about to set. There's a chill; the neighbor's orange roses seem to be shivering. If only there's something she can do. Do it. Do what. Run away. Forget. Start again. By the window she sighs, watching the neighbor park their car, obscuring the roses she wanted to protect. Dinner time! Her mother's voice from the next room. Except her mother's not there. It's an alarm she set to go off every 8:05 p.m. This ritual comforts her. Why would she run away when there's no one to run away from?