The Real Mary Dents The World

She turned off the display and the clock went black. Time was out of sight and out of mind. Four inch heels sat to her right in the passenger seat. Mary’s naked foot stepped on the gas and the world went into it’s abstract period. She weaved and turned her way through the world, letting something in between vision and intuition guide her deftly through to her house.

She made copies, she made coffee, she collated but that wasn’t her. That was just the person she was when she wasn’t real. When she was real, she was in a car. When she was real, she made smoke and incredible time and collated for no one.

Somewhere she heard sirens and she knew that they were coming for her despite reality. They grew closer and closer. She knew she had an exit. As she moved ever closer to her street, she hit the gas and hit the stoplight. Lacking a seatbelt, Mary flew out of her 1987 Thunderbird. For the last few seconds, she was bloody, barefoot and happy.

Of course, her eulogy read differently.

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