Like Glass

A glass girl.

She peered into the big room through the glass door, and sighed. The size of the crowd was just as she predicted, maybe a bit larger. She felt nervy buzzing in her stomach, her breath increase, electric flutters in her chest, a tender wave of raw sensation ran down her arms and shot out of her fingertips. She wrung out her hands. Blurgh, she grumbled, peering in like a spy. Why is every coffee shop in this damn town so crowded? She thought that by going all the way east she would be able to find a suitable hole in the wall she could plant herself in for a few hours that wasn’t so… infested. Her chest continued to rise with quickened breaths. She backed out of the way as a dark haired woman with a fluffy scarf, followed by a child toting a small dog, brushed past her out of the building, the rushing air lending a quick wiff of ground coffee beans, decadent fresh baked pastries, and comfortable comradery. She heard a flurry of indiscernable conversations, peppered with high pitched exclamations and laughter. She marveled, it seemed as if everyone in there grew up living next to each other on the same street. Their body language inviting each other for more, some of their faces close and intense. Did these people know each others deepest secrets? She shifts her weight, unnerved at the thought of prancing into the midst of these groups of acquaintances with her glass extremities. They couldn’t truly savor her taste without devouring her.

She crept backwards away from the doorframe and swished around, hastily making her way to her car. F**k, a perfect waste. She slides into the drivers seat, shuts the door, and secures herself in. That was close, she thinks. she stares at a melted glistening piece of gum on the console. She checks her rearview mirror, cranes her neck back and scans her eyes across the backseat. If I take highway 10 back home I will be stuck in traffic between Cogdill and Jen White, I should take the back road to IH-40, she thinks. Oh the joy she would have stewing on the weeks collections of refraining. She felt a maddening entertainment inside herself. How much time do I have left? The papers are full of inkEd remarks. I really should quick f*****g around and head home and let out Lucy before trying to find another place to dive into these papers, she thinks. Truthfully, that thought was present while rushing out of the driveway, but the other permeating thoughts that overflooded the space in my head drove me more than my own car. Priorities. Home would be too stifling, as would most places and people. She wanted to consistently feel that her wings were spread free yet constantly found that she was restricted by the limitations of others possibilities. She thrived on possibilities, considered them all, but she didn’t let them stop her. I have about 5 hours left to address the papers, she thought, as long as I can find somewhere that will work for me. She bit off the sharp edge of a hangnail and swirled the pointy tip around the til of her tongue.

She loved her boyfriend Chris, he just didn’t really get her need for exposure, and her creativity. She frly the center of her forehead throb when she thought of their fight that morning. It was about gun control. He just didn’t have the same discipline as she did, or the appreciation for justice, in the same way. She pulled down her visor mirror and began focusing in on some tender hairs right along her jawline.
Black and wiry. She flicked the tips of the hairs and felt a buttery shudder move through her body. She thought about her work, and how she truly did enjoy it. She just needed more outlets for joy in her life, as chris has helpfully suggested. She heard the thought in his voice. She chuckled. She realized her throat felt tight and excitement crept up into it, as her finger began searching and pinching for the most proximal point of the hair on her skins surface, then yanking away as she made a mental game of how quickly she could free it from her pore. It often took days for it to actually be pricked free, and left an irritated abrasion that would burn upon contact. She hated the way it made her conscious of her skin, as she felt many people usually were. It wasn’t like she didn’t have sources of joy, joy was relative. She created her joy, rather than searching for it, as she felt most needed to. She didn’t need in the same way, and she didnt let herself need as much as she did. She reflected on appreciation for herself. She really didn’t need an extra surge in her body, in the form of caffeine, anyway. She also didn’t really like to be around dogs while she was trying to concentrate, her focus was tainted enough as it is
She wondered if Lucy, her curious, little football shaped bull terrier was asleep or pacing around scouting a place to pee and cover it up skillfully. Lucy and Chris has similar characteristics, not sure who was more of the canine, or who had been seizes by the great Pavlov first. She chuckled at her own joke. She remembered a time that she squatted and peed in the cat box when she was 12 and began giggling at the imagined view of herself from the side. What a fond memory to reflect back on. In her judgement, she created joy in a seconds notice, mostly remembering back on moments where she felt that she could freely express herself, without being too much noticed. That was before she became glass. Glass was different. So damn vulnerable and unhidden. She wasn’t sure when she stopped being hidden, but it happened at a certain point.

Actually, she decided that she could manage the papers at home, perhaps with a cup of hot broth, and Lucy hanging around for company. Maybe the other canine. Glass was valuable in its own way, but really couldn’t help but be dangerous.

Reviews

[roarke]

You've written a very engrossing character study here. The typos are distracting, and a proofing rewrite can tighten up some looseness in your narrative. Although the last two sentences hint at more story, in this selection, they aren't needed or you could incorporate them into the last para somehow. Over all a good example of showing not telling. Well done.