Perhaps she should have been alarmed that she had this thought at least once a day. But then, any day could be her last. Death was to be expected, welcomed with a sleepy sort of joy or fear.
And it would be so easy to just drift into oncoming traffic, into the path of a semi or a train. So easy. Then it would all be over.
It would be still.
There would be nobody to disappoint or try to please. There would be no constant ache behind her eyes or nagging hunger in her gut.
It would be quiet.
And just a little too dark, like the day that she died.
And it would be so easy to just drift into oncoming traffic, into the path of a semi or a train. So easy. Then it would all be over.
It would be still.
There would be nobody to disappoint or try to please. There would be no constant ache behind her eyes or nagging hunger in her gut.
It would be quiet.
And just a little too dark, like the day that she died.
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