She lay on her back on the carpet with her knees bent and breathed deeply. The tension felt mostly in her shoulders and her lower back. Arching the back made it crack slightly, and then she relaxed. Already she could feel a slight itching in her eyes. The carpet was probably full of dust and her hayfever would really kick in shortly. But still she lay there.

She put the heels of her hands on her eye sockets and felt the weight on her face. It felt comforting. The muscles in her upper back stretched, still slightly sore from yesterday’s workout. She listened to her breathing, just as the cassettes had taught her once upon a time, a long time ago. Placing her hands by her sides, she imagined sinking into the floor, slowly, as though it were sand. Each grain slowly taking over her body, covering every centimetre of her. First her hands and wrists, then feet and ankles, then arms and neck and legs and ears and hips and torso and breasts and finally her mouth and cheeks and forehead and eyes and tip of her nose, and she felt warm under all of this sand.

After a moment, she dragged herself out of the sand and back to her desk. These sneaks from reality were the only things that got her through this job.


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