Hook, Line, and Loner

It had been a pretty hectic day. Yes, that's what she'd call it. If anyone asked. Not that anyone would inquire about how her Saturday was--but she was ready to engage anyone in a story, really. It was a wake up call. Not the extraordinary events of the day. Not the strain in her hamstrings the following morning while holding a cup of hot chocolate in her dark living room watching the morning news, a result of running around the city the day prior. Not the reading over her monthly statement online and realizing that she'd spent far too much on her Visa the night before. Not the shock at looking at her impromptu hair cut in her toothpaste splattered mirror. Not even the letter in the mail she would receive a week and a half later. No. The wake up call was that she had just had a spectacular day--the sort of day that helps to fend off the pesky thoughts of suicide--and she had no one to tell. She didn't realize how lonely she was until she woke up the next morning with a tale on her tongue with no one to lash it at.