In a trying time, it takes a trying try to change things.
Steady and shaky, scared yet brave, the march took over and the lone parader rhythmed her way to the end. Musts were all she had ever known, and this day was a must fest. The tatoo on her forearm had been changing color all morning; the wings marking her first flight flapped violently. Her heart was beating with an equal fervence.
The stopper popped off, and the bottle tilted to her mouth. The juice inside was bitter. It would be her last boost. She knelt and waited for the change, her last change, her last flight, her last day. She would go out with a bang.
by bobbybluebabaloo | (0) comment