Rest

The sun appears to flicker and waver as the pale cerulean sky dims and the cotton-like clouds melt away. In their place mint, gold, and periwinkle swirl to life across a deep ocean blue. Milky white and gold-centered daisies bloom and dance, gliding across its rippling surface. It's not long before the twirling daisies grow weary and pearly, silver-edged petals flutter down on the sapphire leaves that make the garden floor. Yet, not a single patter or rustle remains to be heard.

Rabbits fly and eagles jump to the window as it draws shut. Her gaze lingers for not a moment before it clicks to the center of the room. Faceless husks twirl and shift, a blur in the glass walls of their enclosure. A stunning illusion of honeyed romance as the pairs gaze longingly into their own nonexistent eyes. Looping. Synchronized. The few outliers dance to their own distinctive tune as the flowers shatter and vases wither. Her very bones remain marinating in the smell of roses and wine. She dances along. The music sways and the floor follows. Yet she, who stands at the other edge of her world remains ever so still. A little girl. A pigeon. No, a dragonfly. No, no, a duck? It matters not. One's identity is bound to be unclear at a masquerade.

The music reaches its lowest point when the lights snuff out again and her glass walls crack. White lines branch out and slither across its surface. She picks and claws at the peeling shards. Her body still sways with the wind. Her putrid soul in everlasting movement. Her rotting, picture-book heart prays to remain forever still. But the glass shatters at her feet and her feet shatter along with it. The world caves in around her and her unappreciated companions flutter away, dancing in pairs all the same. She floats and shifts and bends. Her universe wraps around her pupils. Her throat contracts. Her heart aches. She begs for a savior but the stars only look down on her with pity.

Until a small glimmer, a twinkle of honey-gold light shines through tinted glass, and whisker-lined curtains flutter open to a pale blue sky and a scorching sun peeking out from its shelter in cotton-like clouds. Sparkling, dew-tipped grass lay, cool at her fingertips and little yellow butterflies flutter around her with a vague sense of curiosity. Her heart flutters along with them. Birds sing in their blurry nests on indistinct trees, her phone gently vibrates at her hip, and the scent of grass, daisies, and a forgotten, melted raspberry popsicle gently guide her restful soul. Yet again, she falls into a momentary slumber.