My hands felt shaky and number started roaming around in my head.
Pace was only a word to me now and I tried to slow down my breathing as best as I could.
I knew that I was not made or prepared for what I was doing but for some reason it felt like I was breaking my own law for a good reason.
It was hard to ask questions.
To try and pry the words from my mouth and arrange them in a way that seemed to make sense.
To ask a question was like playing the lava game when you were young. Jumping from carpet to carpet only to see if you could jump far enough to make it.
However, this question was too far of a jump for me. Taking the leap only for the carpet to be ripped out from under my feet. Falling to the ground to not complete the game.
My mouth was shut only so the lava could not slide down my fragile throat.
Such a fragile throat that had experienced too many talks, too many questions, and not enough answers to complete these questions.
My body was warm and my hands could no longer shake.
No more numbers roamed my head but confusion filled in the open spaces.
The only open spaces that I still had left in my lava infused head.
My breathing was now slow but not because I wanted it to be but because there was nothing left for me to say.