Hand Stand

Wine fills the gaps of her days like breath between words. She tries to fill the void with chores and naps but alas, wine calls to her from the fridge, it whines to her from the cupboard. So she pours, she drinks, she blends into a haze that fences off the reality of her monotonous, her ongoing, her life. Her bones relax and become bendy so much so that she can do a handstand against the wall and see the world for what it is: upside down.

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