She didn’t look up from the cracks in the sidewalk, nor did she turn down the street to go home. Instead, she just kept walking. Walking until her feet were bruised and bloodied, walked until her lungs were on the presipice of collapsing, walked off the maps edge and into oblivion. Every direction desolate, void of civilization. She found sanctuary in the solace of loneliness and wished the construct of time was just that. A construct. Not an 8am punch in, not a noon lunch or evening dinner, but a sleep extended deep into space where the stars outnumber the grains of sand on earth. She hoped to be weightless. She hoped to be gone.