Her heart feels as though some invisible hands have gotten a hold of it and is squeezing it at intervals. Random intervals, she thought but maybe there was meaning behind it? Intuitively though, she knew why.

It’s funny, she thought; her intuition has always served her well and now that she knows the truth, she wondered what she should do about it. Nothing, probably. Her emotions are weary - they don’t want to be invested. They rather she left them alone, alone to their melancholy selves. They don’t want to be saved, they don’t want to be happier, they just want her to leave them alone until she knew it was the right time,place, or person for them to come out and be forever changed. 

The trouble, as it always is, is that it never was the right time, place, location, or person. 

So in a rectangular room, she sits there and quietly wills the invisible hands to let her heart go. She takes deep breaths over and over and tries to imagine scenarios that didn’t involve her heart.