She felt so old. After years of denying it, compressing her most inner thoughts down into the rotten earth below, she finally had to accept this most terrifying fact. It scared her. Where had the time disappeared to? How many years did she have left of her once so perfect life? She felt as though her youth had been snatched away from her frail hands, no longer able to grip the falling person she once was.

The lines looked like scars, so deeply cut into her skin she could feel the never ending gorges as she applied her anti-wrinkle cream every morning. Her hair, once considered her pride and joy, now sits frail and lifeless from the monthly onslaught of hair dye. She had grown to fear the mirror, to avoid her reflection as she passed a shop window, to avoid the hideous creature she had now become. She hated this imposter.

Her legs no longer able to support her weak body, she held her walking stick in one hand. Her breathing became fast, as fast as the harsh wind lashing itself upon her exposed neck. She stood alone, praying for the arrival of the bus, the only savior to her aching bones.

She was aware, looking left, right, and then left again. Scanning every corner of the street with her piercing bloodshot eyes, preparing herself for a young thief to come and mug her, hitting her over the head with her own walking stick and leaving her for dead. The image circled in her mind. She imagined her cold blood staining the cold pavement, her body motionless as passersby's simply trampled over her, not giving a shit.

She felt an itch traveling down her left cheek.

The familiar swish signaled sanity for the woman, no longer confined to her sick fantasies alone. It was two minutes late, slowing to a child's walking pace, and then to a dead stop, finishing its little performance a foot or so away from the woman's face.

The doors swung inwards and then jolted backwards as if repulsed by the image of the woman standing before them. They had revealed steps; each step a mountain, each mountain double the size of the last. Seconds crawled on by'¦With a deep intake of breath, she began her year-long trek up the cliff faces, her eyes pointed downwards in sheer determination. Her third leg led the way, dragging the others behind it. A slip, a pause, a stumble! She finally reached the top, gasping for breath.

Barely able to concentrate over the rushed tones of her whistling nostrils, she tried to think of a time when this was easy, a time when this was fun, a time when she felt happiness, and not sorrow'¦

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