Surface

She looked in the pool of water, down at her reflection.

Well, there were certainly many things to reflect about, that was for sure.

She wasn’t sure why she had come here, to this park. She probably looked strange staring at her self in the mucky pond.

She dragged her fingers across the surface of the water, blurring her reflection, waves going out through the still water.

Like the aftershocks of that earthquake from the epicenter.

She woke a few mornings ago to a slight shaking. She went outside to see if it was the air conditioner was acting up again, and somehow she ended up in a ambulance hours later, pulled out from under the rubble.

Her roommates had died under that house. She had gone to bed late and was still in so light a sleep that she was awoken by the first, weaker vibrations, and she was the only one who had survived in that house.

If she hadn’t decided to stay up late studying, she would be dead, crushed under the weight of the second floor falling on top of her.

So she watched the surface of the water calm, as the earthquake had ended. Completed with all of her friends dead.

And yet she was as calm as the surface of the water after those waves. She was not in ruins, like her home had been reduced to. She seemed calm; her mind was murky and uncertain like the pond water beneath the surface.

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