Sky, chestnuts, acorns

[squirmelia]

She thought about the sky. Every time she went outside, she'd look up, stare into the clouds as if they were the eyes of her long-lost lover. Most days she sat inside with the curtains drawn, the sparkling streams of sunlight being too much for her when they glared through. She thought the outlines of people squeezed in front of the sky might look in at her, through the tiny cracks at the edges of the windows, that the curtains didn't quite cover. This disturbed her a little. Sometimes she wondered that if she crept outside again, the sky wouldn't be there anymore, and whatever would she look at then?

--
Sometimes though, she'd actually look where she was going, so she wouldn't trip up, she supposed. It was those times that she noticed chestnuts and acorns, and would crush them noisily beneath her feet. It would sound like the pop of crunched snails if she stepped on them hard enough.
--

It was then that she threw herself to the ground wondering how many she could fracture with her shoulderblades, while she let the spacious creamy sky smother her eyes.