  as emma sat down, she saw the words from the floor float upwards and suck back into the mouths that they'd come from. her eyes followed them from the floor, to the mouths, and up to their eyes, and for the first time in a long time, there were eyes looking at her.
not all of them were nice. some seemed to look right through her, some seemed to look past her, and some, she swore, could see right down deep inside where everything was supposed to be hidden. emma wrapped her thin arms around herself, trying to keep everything inside. she didn't want them to spill out. she didn't want to know these people, yet they insisted on rising within her, insisted on stealing her time which she so preciously kept so close to her. her fingers strayed to the watch on her left hand, circling the face, feeling the ridges that she knew so well. this scratch from the fall out of the tree, this dent from crashing my bike, this faint graze where she accidentally walked into the wall . she closed her eyes and remembered back to when she fell. .....opening her eyes, the grass is magnified, so close to her pupils she feels she could see the life pulsing through the blades.
she can see her right arm, stretched out under her head, her left must be what's making it so uncomfortable to lay here. a breeze stirs and gently lifts the skirts of her dress. emma closes her eyes and when she opens them, instead of the cool grass blades before her, there is a pair of mans shoes. 
