writing practice: a near psychotic emotional upheaval on a gray afternoon

she was born in the springtime, if that explains how the current weather is affecting her. swept over by a dash of melancholy on the day when it turned both chilly and gloomy, she sank into a state of unexplained moodiness. emotions bunched up long inside her fanatically sought release, and so she sought ways to calm herself.

first she tried cake because, suspecting it was her low blood sugar level at play again, sweet does the trick. she ordered a piece of black forest at the starbucks downstairs, which was packed with working types at 5pm. she found a stool by the window and sat looking at her own reflection. not too bad, she thought, i'm not that sad. she took a bite of the cake and winced. it was not what she had expected. the sponge cake was packed hard, the cream too sweet. this did not cheer her up but luckily did not dampen her spirits either. no more than did the weather.

she returned upstairs and found herself in the lady's room, sitting on the toilet with the cover down, tissues in her hand. she figured it might help if she made herself cry a little. this was something she had to do, from time to time, a way to "let it all out." in her experience she usually felt much better afterwards; it didn't even matter what she cried for. so there she sat, thinking of things that made her feel so lonely inside. words unsaid, actions not yet taken, absence of mind. a few tears came down. knowing her waterproof eyeliners would still run a bit, she carefully dabbed the tissues around the lower rims of her eyes. but she still did not feel released.

she returned to her desk and put on her earphones, not in the mood to talk to the others, who seemed especially chatty today. she put on a lighthearted song hoping it would sooth her, but to no avail. one of the girls tapped her on the shoulder and asked an innocently stupid question, which she answered without expression. suddenly as if a lightbulb had been lit, she asked the girl whether she could have a cigarette.

and so they found themselves in the stairway. she lit a cigarette and sat down on the steps, slowly inhaled, turned her head sideways and let out a puff of white smoke. she felt her nerves calm instantly. this is how people become addicted, she thought. finally she felt better. she put out the cigarette or what was left of it, breathed in a breath of (relatively) fresh air, and returned to her desk. she began to type away, as wind began to pound on the windows, and the skies turned dark.