She dove under the cliff and took a breath in.
All she could see was a blue marsh. And on the marsh the sunlit a backdrop so big and beautiful the sun burnt yellow and tinges of purple.
She breathed again...
At this point, the bathroom pool got larger. "Fuck!" she said as she ran to the sink and unhinged the faucet. She turned it down so it was just a pour or two. She started downwards as her back coldly slid against the door. Streams of tears blanketed her face but she knew she had to get ready for her meeting. She knew she had to get up. She tried but paralysis slipped into her psyche and fought with her. She knew she had to return. She fought hard to wobble her left leg and then her right. But she just kept crying ever so gently and then with a more voracious pace.
Athena delved deep into her own subconscious clamoring for something to set her back. There it was... a tick. The light flickered on and off. It must have been old. It must have not worked.
The water had soaked the carpet. Athena meanwhile walked over to the dresser near the electric heater and pulled out her work clothes. She had a purple camisole, a strapless purple bra, and black slacks. She also for some reason or another out of her bag brought a crop top and a set of blue skinny mom jeans. The ones with the crystals on the back. Those.
She started undressing out of her white camisole. Just her and her underwear were present. Her complexion was such that it was now complementing the purple bra, which she started fastening and hooking on her boobs, gravity took the rest. It was kind of feathery in a good way. Her panties did not match and the concern was not of her own. They were typical blue with white stripes. The way her days were going no fucks were given. Throw something on. Something. Just anything. But make sure I'd have purple. Make goddamn sure of it. Make sure! She kept recanting this mantra in her head. She made sure to get her white belt out of the case too and put it on. Her slender waist being matched to a canvas of C-section scars and pure abdomens that were grated from marble. Yes, she had learned how to maintain her weight and the scars that shown attacked her own image of what she was. But she was inherently comfortable in her own gorgeous complexion. She had seen many a woman; Beth, for example, suffer from anorexia they didn't even have a name for this type. Trawny her other friend from work. A 6'2 blond that had an ass to match, but it would be years later that she gorged herself on fried chicken. It was the opposite for Trawny. All because her husband cheated on her. What a fucking dip nozzle that guy was. Always with some other woman or near some other woman; he'd hit on women in the office without the slightest anything. What a fuck! Fuck that Andrew Strathamore Selkywiz fuck. The point was body image was never her concern. Even with her child. Her thoughts did not sublimate but attacked even harder. Concentrate on my pants. Concentrate on getting out of here. I have a meeting at 4 p.m. tonight. I dunno know but I have been in here for hours. I need coffee. I need something. I need to leave. I need to at least gather my purse.
Athena grabbed her purse opened the door and headed for the meeting.
