I figured it was about time I stretched my fingers and got to writing... so here it is.
fruit, crows, south, fresh, breeze
Her flesh crawled at the sound of the crows. She hated their caw. She hated the images the sound conjured in her mind. Maybe it was because she had watched The Birds too many times when she was younger. She was already uneasy - the tasks of the day before her were heavy in her mind; the fruit she had eaten for breakfast an all-too-clear reminder of her lack of courage. She could feel the heat of the sun beating down on her, the sweat starting to form and run down her face in tiny rivulets. Her palms were clammy, a fresh reminder that her nerves were winning the battle over her body, her mind. She looked to the south and saw the truck looming on the horizon, and she knew. Knew without a doubt that there was no turning back, no way to stop the day from carrying her forward. She could only hope that she wouldn't fail, wouldn't suffer the heavy consequences that failure would bring.
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