It didn't take much for her to know it was the truth. There was something in the flavor of the air that day, in the delicate balance of salt and taffy, the rancid smell of the beached whale. She didn't think about it so much as she felt it. There was something in the fragile nature of the fog that day, the way she felt as though if she moved, it would shatter around her.
She had built up a life she hated. She had climbed to the top of the great pyramid, stepping on the backs of the people who had built it, clawing at hair and limbs to get there first. And now there were expectations. Expectations and responsibilities. Expectations and responsibilities and committments.
I can't live like this, she thought.
I won't live like this, she said out loud.
Somewhere a seagull let out a low call, and she felt a tiny crab venture over the veins in her foot. The white foam of the ocean bubbled around her, and the swollen waves coughed up seaweed and glass.
I will leave, she realized, I will run away from this grown up world
I don't need more money, I need more life!