Drenched palms leave a shadow of fog as my hand lifts itself off of the keyboard, with only the trace of fingerprints to signal activity. Dream Brooke enters the chat room, and curiosity kills her cat instantaneously.
9 lives? Bull. She’s lived nearly ten in the last eight days, but who’s counting?
The bags under Dream Brooke’s eyes get carried away as she checks out for the day. It’s not even 11 am.
The physiological response to stress makes her brain heavy and her glare intriguing. The more she’s aware, the more bothersome it becomes. What happened to her? Where did she come from? How did she become the way she is? Did she finally wake up?
I wrack my mind trying to decode the shaking fingers and wide stare at the screen’s reflection.
I finally muster the strength to close my eyes and keep them shut. Sirens across the street begin to drown my thoughts out as I lay back and stay afloat. There are too many feelings and not enough time on this clock.
OW!
Piping hot tea cascades from my pointer finger down the front of the arm and puddles in the crease of the elbow. My cup explodes to the ground, echoing a sharp dynamite-like explosion and waking me from a drowsy daydream.
False alarm, I’m the only thing on fire here.
I pick up the pieces once again and set them aside: I’ll deal with it later. No. Yes.
Nap time. Yes.
My head feels fuzzy as lids shut and the endless possibilities of the imagination flood theeee…..
Ah, REM. Glorious.
Where am I? What convenient store is this? I hope they have fruit snacks.
Turkey Hill? Shit. They don’t have them. The floor begins to open up from cracks in the checkered, musty, dusty, sticky, icky flooring and frowns. The sinkhole causes panic to no customer but myself, who, damn, yeah, definitely wondering if-
Is that Rob Lowe? Yeah, no, Rob Lowe would definitely not work at a convenient store.
– was wondering if any one else was concerned that they’d fall into the aching abyss that’s literally screaming my name? No? Just me? Okay.
The sinkhole closes its widened mouth and settles until it begins to stretch. Snack stands crash, cans roll down aisles. The crappy blue, Bluetooth speaker in the corner falls off the counter. Happy by Pharrell slides into my harsh opinions. The clash creates havoc. Fall Out Boy calms the air and all is once more at peace. Ah, sugar, we are definitely goin’ down. Beautiful. Do I have to pee again? Honestly? Probably.
I look down and see Dream Brooke’s rainbow Brooke’s crocs. Yeah, do you see the tags? They’re from the store! Goddamn. Really?
The walls begin to stretch with the floors until I’m the size of the pennies rolling out the door. Yep, exactly. I start to fall until I catch my pinky on the heart of the cold metal handle, hanging.
Once again, how did she get here?
I finally let go and drop as dead weight through a space of nothingness. A bead of sweat dancing down my cheek pairs with a tear. I feel my heaviness again. It’s home.
But this time? Dream Brooke’s awake.
And even she can learn to let go.