the heavy mist obscures her view of the world so that she cannot see more than a stride ahead. she reaches forward to see her arm disappear in its thick yet dispersed emptiness, but her fingers brush up against a cool glass-like substance.
she blinks, as if closing her eyes momentarily could clear the mist, but it’s not just inside her head. when she opens her eyes it’s still there. it surrounds her, and she can feel it closing in and enveloping her body until the edges are blurry and she forgets where the boundaries were once clear. or if they existed at all.
she takes a small step forward towards the glass-like substance, and brushes at the fog with spread fingers; the way they teach you not to hold your hands while you’re swimming because it doesn’t help your momentum as much. the mist swirls, as if every particle is separate but somehow attached without needing to be fused; only requiring the light touch of its neighbour to continue the obstruction of what was once transparent.
in all four directions her eyes paint the same picture to her mind, so she uses her hands to see and her body to touch. her shoulders brush up against a wall as she walks towards the glass-like substance, and the faint realisation of a possibility that this space is enclosed seeps in. she searches for a corner to tell her the shape of her surroundings, but the glass is smooth and curved, following her hands as she glides them across its flawless, edgeless surface. she follows its circumference, walking slowly, until she feels like she has walked in circles in a desert with no destination or progress.
so she takes the last step and presses herself against the glass-like substance, hoping it will give her some clarity, or at least a view of what’s beyond the mist. only to find that when she’s standing right against it, a blurry vision of herself is mirrored in the glass, reminding her of the uncertainty of everything beyond what her eyes are able to distinguish. leaving her with the knowledge that the only certainty lies within herself.