The firm touch of her palm on her chin as she zones off into the distance reassures her. It is the last remaining string that ties her balloon of a mind to her body. To her reality. In the back she can hear her teacher preaching.
Was it Judaism? Or maybe the Buddha this class? But does it even matter now?
All she can see is the distant highway as a continuous string of cars roll through. Soft orange and pink fill the sky as it slowly wakes up for another day. She can feel her sweatshirt hugging her arms and warming her like a blanket.
And that's when the dream crawls in. The car blasting music. Aching lungs. Whole hearted smiles and horrible singing. She smiles to herself and hopes that she can someday come to this day.
