Unmoved. Unconvinced. Unimpressed. It's nearly at an end, but not much has changed. She follows the same broken, dark and winding path each day. The day begins anew, but the tasks never change. Woken up in the dark by the mechanical beast. No matter how many times she strikes at it, the thing returns to shriek. Tread blindly through the darkness, tripping on the frames. Stumbling in pain to experience a second blindness. Too bad it's not hysterical. I hear stress reducers will cure that. Slamming, banging, whooshing, splashing. She stands taller, heavy treads and clumsy stumbles built into definitive plodding. Coffee. Too much sugar. Let the cold air out too many times. Invite mud and dewey feet to jump on the couch. Sweetened cardboard and ice cold white. Swallow, brush, rinse and repeat.