Disconnected

There were times when she wished that she could get out of herself and look from afar. Perhaps that would have given her a better perspective on life.

Her fingers stopped working on the keyboard. It was already eight in the evening, and she was still in the office. Her eyes were fixed on the computer screen but her mind was trying to concentrate on something else within.

Sometimes it is difficult to find sense in the chaos that engulfs our lives.

There wasn’t much work to do, but she had no one to go home to. Would it have mattered if she took flowers and wine to him tonight? Wouldn’t that be a role reversal, conflicting with her idea of a romantic evening? Was there any romance left?

Does it matter? Does anything matter? If no, then why is she in such a dazed state, unable to come to terms with her own existence?

Would free fall hurt?

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