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February 10, 2015
She sat on the grass and considered laying down altogether. Grass smells nice, sun's not too harsh, and there isn't a lot of people walking by. She frowns at how it's taking her more time than necessary to decide whether or not she would lie on the grass. She puts a hand on her chest to calm herself, why is she so angry all the time? Why can't she let 95% of things to slide? Why, when both her hands are occupied and she needs to free one to do something, she can't? She relents. Deep breath. Eyes closed. Plop.