Ideally.
Annika breathed in deeply. Her fingers trailed up and down the wet dew in an absent fashion. She couldn't tell that there were grass blades stuck in her hair, that her dress was soaked through with the dew, or even that her skin was was developing small patches of rash from her allergies. And really, Annika didn't care.
She breathed deeply and placed a palm into the grass. Her other arm was carefully crossed on her stomach, wrapping her fingers around her waist. The look on her face was priceless: she stared into the early morning sky as if she was willing her soul to stay in her body.
Perhaps she was, too. No-one knew.
Annika lay there for hours at a time, days on end. She never moved, she never got up. When someone walked over to her, she'd move her head to look at them, stare them in the eyes, and then look back up at the sky. Sometimes, she'd point at the sky, turn back to them, and raise her eyebrows as if questioning why they weren't looking, too. Her lips would part and she'd sigh when they looked up and back down at her with questions written on their faces.
No-one knew who she was and no-one knew why she'd lay there. No-one bothered to ask. They just assumed she was crazy and would let her lay there.
The problem was, Annika wasn't always there.
In fact, Annika was hardly there. She would go home and eat dinner with her family. She'd get taught in her home by a private tutor. She'd take a shower, put on a new dress, and then go back to the place that she would always lay at. Sometimes, on very nice days, she'd invite friends over and sip tea with them and tell of stories.
So why didn't no-one ever know this?
Annika smiled as she stared up at the sky. People didn't question things enough. They only let what they saw be what they knew. They wouldn't ask her for they didn't have the time or they didn't care. They would pass judgment on her and then leave. They would think she was a crazy fool.
So why didn't people notice when she left?
Annika felt her heartbeat in her chest as she stood up and raised her arms to the sky. She stretched, yawned, and then cracked her back. A smiled played on her face as she looked down the road. Turning, she lay back down and pressed her hands onto the ground again and let the dew and grass envelope her body once more.
People stopped noticing her after a while. People always stop noticing the things that are always there. They overlook them and, if they were in face missing, placed them there anyway. People were also so predictable that she knew when she could leave, who would notice, and who wouldn't.
It was all so simple.
Annika smiled and she placed her arms over head. She heard footsteps approaching, and this time, she didn't even bother to look at the person coming.
"Go away. I'm living."
She breathed deeply and placed a palm into the grass. Her other arm was carefully crossed on her stomach, wrapping her fingers around her waist. The look on her face was priceless: she stared into the early morning sky as if she was willing her soul to stay in her body.
Perhaps she was, too. No-one knew.
Annika lay there for hours at a time, days on end. She never moved, she never got up. When someone walked over to her, she'd move her head to look at them, stare them in the eyes, and then look back up at the sky. Sometimes, she'd point at the sky, turn back to them, and raise her eyebrows as if questioning why they weren't looking, too. Her lips would part and she'd sigh when they looked up and back down at her with questions written on their faces.
No-one knew who she was and no-one knew why she'd lay there. No-one bothered to ask. They just assumed she was crazy and would let her lay there.
The problem was, Annika wasn't always there.
In fact, Annika was hardly there. She would go home and eat dinner with her family. She'd get taught in her home by a private tutor. She'd take a shower, put on a new dress, and then go back to the place that she would always lay at. Sometimes, on very nice days, she'd invite friends over and sip tea with them and tell of stories.
So why didn't no-one ever know this?
Annika smiled as she stared up at the sky. People didn't question things enough. They only let what they saw be what they knew. They wouldn't ask her for they didn't have the time or they didn't care. They would pass judgment on her and then leave. They would think she was a crazy fool.
So why didn't people notice when she left?
Annika felt her heartbeat in her chest as she stood up and raised her arms to the sky. She stretched, yawned, and then cracked her back. A smiled played on her face as she looked down the road. Turning, she lay back down and pressed her hands onto the ground again and let the dew and grass envelope her body once more.
People stopped noticing her after a while. People always stop noticing the things that are always there. They overlook them and, if they were in face missing, placed them there anyway. People were also so predictable that she knew when she could leave, who would notice, and who wouldn't.
It was all so simple.
Annika smiled and she placed her arms over head. She heard footsteps approaching, and this time, she didn't even bother to look at the person coming.
"Go away. I'm living."