A Frida Kahlo print swam along the wall.
Page’s stomach lurched.
.gyroscope. by Misko via Flickr
No sudden moves, she thought. A gyroscope whirred smoothly at the top of her head, maintaining a delicate balance. Page knew that if she tilted her head, the gyroscope would clatter out of control and the wrecking ball would swing forward again.
If she could keep the gyroscope stable she would be fine.
She breathed in.
Out.
Success.
At this rate, she would be herself in a couple of years.
From TRINITY THINKS TWICE
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