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She doesn’t relax anymore. Hasn’t in nearly a year. She can’t relax and let down her guard without becoming vulnerable. Nor can she keep up the break-neck drive of creative frenzy to take in the calm of the day surrounding her. If that happens, she starts to think. To feel. Remember.
Pippa’d much rather forget the pain and the fear, the insecurity and the suffocating feel of her life closing in on her.
So when the evening comes and she returns home, she fills a glass with dark red wine then drinks from the bottle. She doesn’t relax. She drowns.
Pippa’d much rather forget the pain and the fear, the insecurity and the suffocating feel of her life closing in on her.
So when the evening comes and she returns home, she fills a glass with dark red wine then drinks from the bottle. She doesn’t relax. She drowns.