WRITING: Mood

Shallow breathing, taking in enough just to keep her head alive.  The rest of her, a rock that doesn’t need it.  Hardened into stone, silver sparkled granite, sharpened edges cutting into space.  Unmoving with the inhalation, melting more in whispered exhalations–though you wouldn’t notice. Smaller and smaller she becomes as life itself is blown away in wisps of dreams.