this morning #35.

this morning, the sun smashed in through the blinds, blinding her to the day ahead, rushing in the day as she laid there silent. not ready. silent & breathing. quiet & oxygen. trying to wake up, private & mindful & calculating. it would all turn out fine. right? the day, it would shine…or it wouldn't at all, but the sun would shine soon throughout that room & the breathing would die down to a manageable moan. the clarity would come on strong & that would be enough, right? right?…enough to keep the levels balanced. sure. she’d tell herself that.