Slide

  Vision slides, peeling away the truth in what I've seen, and making way for the questions. My truth was fractured by a girl, a very ordinary girl. She had been sitting alone at a table near me, and something - I cannot say what, for I do not know - drew my eyes to her. I watched as she stood and walked through the corridor to her car. When she had walked out of sight, I began following her reflection in an opposing window, and before she got to the edge of the window, she disappeared.
  I blinked, unable to accept what I had just seen. Positive that I was merely seeing things, I stand and follow her paht out. The area is completely empty of her or anything that could be in hiding.
  Maybe, I think to myself, I did not see her at all.
  This thought curls in on itself, spiralling around my reality. It wraps itself around and around, and crushes it. My thoughts run together and fall apart, making the questions multiply and the answers become toasters. Toasters? I slide into the darkness.
  I kneel, and touch the ground beneath me with the tips of my fingers. They tell me that it is there, unmoving and cold, but my eyes told me that she was real and now I do not know if I can trust my senses. I stand, and walk away. In my mind, I run from the cracks that have formed in my reality.
  Sometimes, as with now, reality seems to just slip through my fingers. All I can do to hold onto what's real is turn away from these fractures, and slowly convince myself it never happened. To run from the madness that I know is waiting for me on the other side of acceptance.
  In my mind, I'm always running.