Floors above

Soft footsteps of the elephant’s cement shoes.

Foreboding fills the air.

Going downstairs to escape is not an option.

Take a deep breath and just breathe.

The terror child comes down the stairs.

I greet her and smile as she tells me she is hungry.

My brain rewires itself and I have to remind myself

She is not a terror.

My brain is playing tricks on me again.

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