the synchronizing footsteps make a consistent beat on the tar road.
she’s in the crowd, sticking out like a sore thumb. her footsteps are offbeat compared to the rest. nonetheless everyone else moves along with the tick-tock of the clock. they march as the seconds past.
they sync with time.
she’s trapped, but she has to move on to avoid being trampled on. she has to take wider strides to keep up. the energy continuously drains out from her soul. the pressure rises in her.
she just has to catch up.
the snow has melted two weeks back and the bits of green take a peek of the sun. spring time is soon —but everyone knows: March marks the beginning of the plague.
so even though her left leg moves first when everyone else’s moves their right, even though she’s gasping for air because she’s almost out of breath, she simply has to move to the beat of the clock’s pendulum (for time waits for no one).
she feels like she will fail. that darkness and fear will engulf her and hold her back. but she will not lean on her own understanding; she will put her trust in the Light that will lead her the way.
she will not lose the race. she will not lose the fight.
she will strive forward with the help of this Light.