The protagonist of a movie, I move towards the conflict, action erupting, emitting violence. The scene begins in a waltz. The elite swirling on the marble floor - brushing their silk and frills against my tan skin. I jump up. The chandelier crashes against me, giving birth molten flowers.
This could be my dream. In reality I dreamt of sneaking into a secure facility, but never making it past the elevator.
Writing exercise: http://cultureprn.tumblr.com/post/9176218270/thought-verbs-by-chuck-palahniuk
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