dandandan
control. it was a big thing for me.
bigger than for most people, although i dont think anybody had ever realised.
i wanted control, not the way hitler wanted control, but the way that a river wants control. not to shout orders and to have them obeyed, but rather to rush through life without pomp or grandeur and still have the river banks step smartly back from my outstretched hands.
crack.
it was a noise she was familiar with: the crack of firewood in the grate as the flames finally took hold. the crack of a stone hitting the windshield on long roadtrips with her father. the crack of her finger joints popping into place.
but never before had she heard so many successive, earth shattering cracks.
the crack of the wood beneath her feet. the crack that came from somewhere beind her head. the silent crack in her mind as she realised why her hands were not already pushing her up.