Same girl, same day, same place, same pace.
She carries her body from here to there, from there to here. She is me, she is you, she is them and and maybe all of us together. She is afraid to fly. Each time she she arranges a line, she is pacing along it. The the other one enters, look around, approaching and breaking the routine. At a certain moment she releases and the reality cracks down. The soul crushes. And now, a decision must be made, either to keep pacing or grow a pair of wings?