Emi picked herself up. She was strong. She had fallen many times. Gotten hurt. Cried. Then, picked herself back up. And continued. This wasn’t the first time. Wasn’t even the worst. It was the scariest though. By far. She was on unsteady feet. Trembling still. Her hands were by the side, as usual. But clenched. So tight, the veins showed. And her lips were pressed into a line so thin, they could have been drawn with the tip of a pencil sharpened to a point. She was walking at a steady pace. There was nothing to be scared of, she kept telling herself. It was just a shadow. Just her mind having a blast, tricking her, scaring her. She didn’t have to fall for it. Speed up. Trip and fall. And get truly hurt. She didn’t need that.
She walked all the way down. One final hallway to walk down. An
