It was the day the world was supposed to end according to the Mayan calendar, but my world was just beginning. The snow was crisp on the ground and if I used my imagination, I could hear the carolers in the background. I’d never been able to breathe so clearly on a winter night. My feet were howling in protest of walking on ice in scrappy sandal heels, but I made it to the mall anyway. As I sat on the barstool in the accessories store, I barely felt the ear piercing gun shoot silver balls into my earlobes as I listened to one of my favorite songs playing above our heads.
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Writing; wondering; creating
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