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Running Prt 5

I can’t see him… I can’t let him sway me, or touch me, or get close. My heart will betray me if I do.

It’s followed by the squeak of one of the cleaning carts and I exhale in relief when it rolls right on by my room and fades into the distance. My body weak with relief, and I sprawl out star shaped on my bed, exhaling so heavily I let out a whoosh noise and then moan at my own stupid despair.

Stop freaking out, Alora. You’re going to get yourself in such a mess and not be able to follow through. Relax, breathe, count.

I put everything into doing just that, remember the techniques I used to use when I stayed in the home and couldn’t relax or sleep on nights when everything got to me too much. I picture a meadow, a sweet-scented field full of pretty flowers, and one by one as I walk through them, I count the heads, picking them out, touching them as I go. I visualize the colors, the feel of their softy silky petals on my fingers, a
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