I could feel a thumbing, my heart beat? It must be, because it sounded so close. My hand moved as if guided by invisible strings to my chest. I could feel it, my heart was pumping, but this was not the same as the noise. I moved to my head, my temples, I think. Yes, this is where the sound hid; it was the racing of blood in my head. It throbbed. It wasn’t until my eyes opened that I knew they had been closed.
There was light, too much light and I was flat on my back. Above me something was swinging, something, like wood. It was wood. It was the seat of a swing that swayed in the light breeze. I sat up, with cool grass beneath my palms, and looked at the tree. It was heavy with emerald leaves. A single one fluttered down, landing in my lap. The fronts of my jeans were clean, but as I rolled achingly to my side I could see my back was smeared with grass stains and dirt. The earth underneath me was bothered, pressed down by my weight. I looked from the tree, to the ground, to my back. I listened the throbbing in my head.
“You’re an idiot!” It chanted like needles.
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