Tag: Realistic Fiction

Lost was something she felt all the time. How do you know what that one choice was that snowballed you into this inevitable reality? This fate where you’re sitting next to empty, greasy, Chinese take-out cartons and squishing ants under your fingers just to feel powerful for once. Stinky, nasty dirty floors. Moldy gray-green walls. Die, ants, die. She knew he was coming soon. She didn’t know what time it was, he had turned off her power, but the sun was finger painting the clouds.