Frozen Waffles

She hears the water of the shower head, as it slowly begins to pour. Her time outside these walls is limited. But she must leave now. And of that – she is sure.

Footsteps – to the kitchen.

Her disorder, it surely is at unease.

A task like this takes courage.

A task like this – makes her freeze.

One hand on the refrigerator. The other on the door. She mustn’t make a mistake now. Her mind – will surely roar.

Left to right.

Right to left.

Her fingertips just so.

She grabs the frozen waffles.

As soon – she will have to go.

Reaching for the toaster.

Footsteps in the distance.

Her mind it screams for her to run now.

It does so, with such persistence.

Why?! She screams. Disheartened. (Of course, beneath her breath).

As to speak would be a sin of sorts. To speak, would mean she “failed the test”.

Running to her bedroom.

Tears within her eyes.

She throws the waffles at her bedroom door. As there is nothing more she has despised.

All she wants is freedom.

To live the life she once knew.

But a life beyond her bedroom?

It almost seems untrue.