She spread her arms wide, looked over the edge.
A breeze pushed her back, cleared the mist from her mind.
She found the rope, something high and sturdy.
As she struggled with the knot, the ones in her head came undone too.
She went under the sink, unscrewed the lid.
The drip of clarity (or fear of failure) came thicker and faster than the liquid.
She looked at the knives in the kitchen.
The glint of their blades burned through the fog clouding her vision.
She sat in the driver’s seat, turned the key.
It unlocked the door her rational thoughts had slipped behind.
She took in a hundred other possibilities.
There was always something, a distraction that came just in time.
She thanked God that she didn’t live in America
With easy access to a certainty faster than her speeding brain could find a reason to stop.