She looks down and sees the depth expanding before her eyes.
She looks up and sees the vastness engulfing everything in its vicinity. Her miniscule existence seems so pointless to her now and the depths seems inviting.
Never before has the barren road looked so comfortable.
The sharp edges below call out to her making her believe in their potential softness of turns and incandescent flow.
She believes their tune; the unmeasurable depths look like a huge ball of cotton fluff waiting to be jumped on. She wonders what the fluff would feel like; will it bounce her back to life.
The pressure cooker’s whistles try their hardest to break her trance and fail miserably at their attempts.
Her gaze is fixed like a bird’s caught in front of a snake but she doesn’t see anything, only her escape.
Minutes pass, the waft of burning rice swims in her head and she goes back to the kitchen to serve lunch.
Bulbul's Bubble 