Kicking off the covers because the heat stifles.
Then shivering to sleep.
Pushing back the wisp of hair that trails from the barrette.
Again. And again.
Itching in your own skin.
When you find yourself in someone else's shoes.
Wishing for something different,
but all the magic wands and pixie dust
and crossed fingers and avoiding-the-cracks
in the world
won't make it so.
Search the horizon. For a new day.
A new way.
A new slice of time that tastes right, like honey and fresh air.
Like lemon drops and laundry on the line.
Until you find it?
Keep moving forward. Breathing in. And out.
And in again.