So much runs through the mind of Clara every single minute of the day. It’s like another soul residing in her consciousness, and unconsciousness. There are times when it overwhelms her entirely. Now is such a time. Bubbles of notion pushes her to a state of anxiety. As if there were things she had to accomplish, now. As if a part of her was telling her that her life would be over soon. Nothing points directly to her impending demise but these nagging thoughts sends her mind into a frenzy. She breathes. Inhales. And holds her breath. Hoping that by doing that, time stops. 

We often lament our prodigious memory. For having the capacity to hold on to and vividly capture past occurrences. We search for ways to correct past mistakes, make amendments, forget unhappiness. But we fail all time, don’t we? So for now, we conceal our aberrations like an unsightly blemish, we masquerade our heavy heart with pseudo happiness and hope that life will move on. Life does move on. But do we ever move on?