The dungeon of her mind was a terrible place and just too much at that moment. Confines of the room fed on misery and soon, walls began to vibrate with contempt. The time had come to leave and the weight of her mood had transferred to the body; the effort to assemble herself felt colossal. First the shower, then the clothes, then the shoes.

Pausing at the edge of the door, the moment of choice. Certainty of comfort lay in one direction, continued angst and sadness in the other. Turning towards certainty, the immediacy of the need outweighed the inevitable conclusion. It wouldn’t end well, never did, never would.

Even after making the turn, heaviness continued and multiplied. Walking among the familiar sights and sounds of lower 82nd, the cold air and fading light of a winter afternoon added to the oppression. Powerless and out-of-control, each step taking her closer, the place called out in the impending darkness like a beacon to a lost ship.

There was still time for an adjustment but really, she felt no desire to make one. What has begun must be finished, any correction more agonizing now that the initial decision was made. Wanting to believe this to be true, even if it wasn’t, looking down was easier than looking up. Concrete and dirt stared back indifferently while faces penetrated the determined facade, exposing the bewilderment of being in this same orbit of thought yet again.

Rounding the corner, the beacon came into full view with bright lights and bustling activity. Even as her pace quickened, this last segment stretched out timelessly to provide one last moment for redemption with thoughts of truth, love, life. Hurry to get inside. Once there, it would be too late to choose anything else. With no alternative, inevitability of conclusion defeats hope.

No matter how she tried to suppress it, her hand trembled at the counter. Hopefully he didn’t notice but if so, it wouldn’t matter. By the time she walked out the door, excited fear had turned to shame. The worst feeling yet. She cracked the cap and the paradox of the moment became clear: what was most feared was also what she longed for. As the liquid flowed freely into her mouth, throat, and stomach, oblivion would wipe anything away.