A WEIGHTLESS MOMENT OF CHANGE?

MAY IS HOSTED BY Hand in Hand, DONALD MAASS'  TWEETS ON CREATING THE PERFECT NOVEL ;)  and SECTIONS INSPIRED BY THESE:

Kirsten Imani Kasai

DONALD MAASS WRITE TIP #101

What’s a moment when everything could change? Pause. Explore. What does it feel like to be weightless? Add it

I stared dry-eyed at the spitting rain that threw itself at the window before clustering for comfort and sliding out of view.  I was less substantial than a raindrop. I didn't have it in me to cry. Besides, crying would  be pointless. I was a support network of one – more of a strand really. Hell, if I cried I’d even have to go and find the tissues for myself.

He came. He saw. He concubined.

I killed him.

I loved him, that hadn’t been pretend. I felt substantially changed. Even now, he was in me. Cellular. To the ends of fingertips, he was grafted into the keratin. Wrapped around my heart – like cling film – he'd nurtured like plastic wrap.

I gave him all that I could be. And, he made me weak.

Sickening.

My physical body knew what my mind refused to see. With him in my life, I made a passable blanket. Or, more accurately, a better rug.

I almost let the light in me go out – just to keep him. Now, he was gone. My cheeks heated at the thought of how far from goodly I'd slipped; so far from me. I banished him to where the Numbered ought to be. In that moment, in my room, despair became a tangible thing. Greater than any misery I had allowed myself to feel.

I could welcome despair. We’d be a good fit. Bleak. Blind. Unforgiving.

I shivered. And I shut my eyes.

Behind my eyelids, there was a glow.

The light? Or the will to live? Or hope?

It was the germ of a feeling. 
A  lonely tear began to run down my cheek.  I drew in a deep, desperate breath.  
Revelation. 
I was alive. It was possible to live without him. I could grow again.

HAVE YOU CREATED A MOMENT OF CHANGE WHERE ANYTHING WAS POSSIBLE?