The wind is whipping through the bushes behind Abigail’s window, rattling the sill and forcing the branches up against the window, where they thrash wild rhythms into the glass.
Abigail has a test tomorrow, but every time she tries to focus on derivatives, a particularly loud scrape will pull her mind away.
She’s only studying in the first place because she couldn’t sleep. It seems very ironic that she can’t even use the time usefully.
She turns the flashlight off, and lets the afterimages fade. Her head is full of calculations and rules, images of laughing classmates and crossed-out answers. She really can’t fail this test; her grades are bad enough as it is. But she won’t fall asleep like this.
So Abigail gets up, and stares outside; then she opens the window, and lets the wind come tumbling in.
I like the afterimages and the wind. It feels good. It feels free.
Comment by Heartfelt — January 9, 2009 @ 2:00 am