Blurring.

Joanna twirls in the empty wind and watches the school bus drive past. She does not care today, because today is the anniversary. She has ever since promised to do something with her life, and that included not going to school; she knows Alice will text her, demanding where she was, but she will call her on first break to let her know.

Joanna breaks into a sprint and passes a boy with hazel-brown hair and a red scarf. On another day, she might have stopped and spoken to him, and maybe he may even turn out to be the man she married; but today she is letting go of teenage worries and indulging in the childlike elation of running until you can't breathe, think, love, like, hate or care. The world was a flowing mess in her periphery and the sky was so blue, the clouds so white.

Joanna throws herself over the railing; the crumbling, rusty, red railing. She only stops to briefly check her hands had not been cut; they were pink, much like her cheeks, but they aren't wounded, so she carried on running. The grass swished and there was a plump man in a tractor-like thing driving over it, mowing it, but Joanna barely stops to notice him in his navy blue hat.

Joanna starts to cry and the tears burn their way down her face, into the air. She stops in front of the cliffs and fell to her knees. Her white blonde her slides in her face like a curtain, bouncing. The sea is sparkling and bright; Joanna feels like she should go swimming in it, but she's still sane enough to understand how harsh and cold it will be.

Joanna wipes away her tears and beams into to breezes as it tickles her neck. She holds out her arms, imagining what it would be like to fly, to soar, to travel among the birds. Joanna has missed missing this.

Joanna sits crossed legs in the soft grass and closes her eyes. She is happy.

This is what it is like, she can't help decide. Maybe she should skip school more often, she decides with a bitter laugh.

Joanna whips out her phone and presses 'one'. She calls it and leaves a message.

"I think I've finally found what you wanted," she says to no-one, "I just wish you were here to see it, sweetheart."

Joanna is faintly aware of the cawing of the seagulls when she sadly smiles into her mobile, presses him closely to her.

"I miss you everyday," she whispers, because it's an exciting treasure that only her and the glowing sun will ever know, "The world is so beautiful, now, Nick. Everything is so brilliant."

"See you later."

Joanna hangs up and sprawls out on her grass bed; the individual blades gently brush her skin comfortingly. Joanna presses one grateful palm against it, feeling the warm soil.

Joanna knew how to do something Nick never would; that was sad, but old habits die hard, and she was pleased as usual to beat him at something.

Living.