Each Can Make a Few Notes

The girl sits at the window, book in her hands, a cushion pushed up under her chin. Feet tucked up under her body.

Focus.

Her eyes dart from page to page, a small smile plays on her lips. A strand of hair falls past her eyes. Lips partially open as she mouths the words.

Sunlight.

It streams across the room, dust motes float aimlessly as she reads, eyes never leaving the pages.

A sigh.

She has reached her favourite part. The characters dance across her imagination. She wishes more than anything that she could experience an adventure like this. But deep down she doesn’t think she ever will.

Wanderlust.

She dreams of running away, not forever, just a little while. Going someplace she has never seen. Falling down the rabbit hole.

Laughter.

She laughs as she reads further; she knows what will happen next. She moves, shifting her position, working feeling back into her legs without her eyes leaving the text.

“Why is a Raven like a Writing Desk?”

She frowns as she reads; she has never been able to answer the riddle. It tickles her brain as she pauses to try her hand at solving it for the hundredth time.

No luck.

She wonders if it even has an answer. She feels as though the moment she manages to answer the riddle, will be the moment she finally grows up.

She isn’t sure that is something she wants.

She turns her head, her eyes back on the pages. She wants to lose herself in a world of wonder and magic, or madness and loyalty. She wants to be somewhere she feels safe and that will never change.

She wonders.

Alice, why would you leave wonderland?