The door closes, the bookbag darts into the corner, the shoes fly off and land perfectly on the chair, while the owner flings herself onto the bed with Olympic skill. Safe within her bubble of tranquility, nothing can disturb her as she floats through the colored mists; dancing to the subtle gurgles of her own mind. Glancing through the book of her psyche, she giggles at the thoughts she finds there. Gently prodding the porous parchment, she travels through the porthole and discovers a new land. Here she looks down and encounters her reflection in a purple tidepool, which ripples at her whispered breaths. Leaning forward, she bends to drink while the water noiselessly kisses her lips. Suddenly she falls through the pond and glides upward through the glistening waves until she comes to rest on a pool of clouds. There she relaxes without worry, halloed in silkiness. Softly knocking, her mother’s voice enters the pastel clouds and silently reminds her of reality. Sitting up, she falls through her comfy surroundings—the pond, the book, her mind—and lands abruptly on her bed with her mother staring down at her. “You know, procrastination never helps with anything.” Subserviently nodding, she thinks, “Yeah I know, but it’s the code of people everywhere.”

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