Here She Lies

She raises her arm to scratch her nape. She waits, unsure if she should be relieved. Part of her is curious as to where he is, another part mad at the other for being remotely concerned.

But she is relieved. She is, well, still alive and all in one piece.
But still, that curious part of her pinches her ear lobe every now and then. As if some part is, well, not there. She glances at her notebook, comforted by the thought that she has much work to do. She cannot afford to miss this deadline. Not again.

No urge to begin, though. She places her pen on the table, grabs it again and taps it on her forehead. The taps wake no idea up. She is thrown back to that one neat night. She resists but is overwhelmed by her desire to stay.

She is back and she is not leaving.
And the pieces of a story went falling into place as her pen on the table jumped to life.
As her pen on the table jumped to lie.