She glanced to the side out the window at a peaceful silky black night, violet clouds passing by overhead shrouding and revealing the moon. The bright orange second hand of a chrome clock, bordered with neon clicked at 12. 3:00am.
Wasn't she the one always longing for some experience? For some kind of mysterious easier times in the past where she hadn't seemed to be pushed down two increasingly forking paths, lifestyles that she had at some point unknowingly committed to, tearing off the stupid wings tattooed to her back off like those of a fly? She ate, she shit, and she reared her ugly head, with those bulging eyes and that hungry mouth, dreading people and the world.
"Okay."