(no subject)

[chronodisplaced.livejournal.com]

She's twenty-two.

Caught between. Home and nowhere. She doesn't really (wreathed in woodsmoke, with pine needles in her hair, damp and dying leaves under bare feet, and it was autumn because the trees were golden and rust and, and, and-- ) remember where she was before the world twisted inside-out and left her at the end of the universe.

Now, there's hot chocolate at hand. Cozy socks. Baggy sweater. An open diary with the pages torn out.

She'll enjoy what she can while figuring it out.