Silver and Gold

Oh, I'm getting old.

A rhinoceros meant nothing. Jess had stared at Rhonda, narrating her state of affairs, focusing negatively on the gaping lack of romantic love in her life. She saw no significance in Rhonda, really. The Masters degree in her stretched to a comparison of Rhonda's thick, tough skin to her own, but that's when her train of thought stopped; she was, instead, listening to Robbie and Cece's conversation.

Kids in ten years.

She was 30. Young, really. Especially young in spirit and dress. Jess had always fostered her youthful energy. Times struck, though, when the future suddenly seemed to slip away from her. Dissolve when she really thought about it. In vulnerable moments Jess would occasionally see her Self clearly. She sometimes noticed herself feeling cluttered, with underappreciated emotions cast away under the easy veneer of a free-spirited adult creative writing teacher.

She could be real. Jess knew she was real. She lived with herself every day. Jess felt things beyond an affinity for cake decorating. She honored who she was; she explored interests that, whether juvenile or not, were true to her interests. Jess made no qualms about it. Glitter glue and edible lip gloss made her happy.

It was her cluttered, underappreciated emotions that needed attention. Her stomach would sink with this understanding, every time. Jess often remained static to avoid feeling uncomfortable. She knew that pushing herself, probing her consciousness too much could disrupt the balance she'd set in her life.

In her loft. In her relationship with Nick. It was a delicate balance; moments of softness that affected her, moments of hilarity that relaxed her. Jess understood this dynamic as the reason why she chose Nick for comfort.

She was fertile with long years of child-rearing ahead of her. She felt down, slightly defeated, and wanted comfort. She knocked on Nick's doo r knowing that he had comfort to give to her.

Jess let the catastrophe that was Z is for Zombie wrap around and relax her.