March 14, 2011

She had approached the day as if it were a track to barrel down, her path glinting bright in the morning sun. But trains still run on wheels, and when the news arrived, it loosened the pins that held hers fast. She felt them skitter away to the sides, her plans tipping one way or the other, left scattered alongside where they should have been. It would take days to get out of this mess, she realized, days of piecing metal back together, lifting and pushing and tugging until everything returned the way it had been when she first picked up speed.

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