Prickly

When Leland felt the first moments of unrest, he quickly excused himself and went into the "personal room" at work, dropping into a seated position on the floor. "I know what to do," he whispered, steadying himself as best he could (his skin prickly, his heart suddenly pounding, and his brain filled with what could only be described as an electrical storm). "All energy is simply energy," he whispered next, imagining that he held an enormous glass jar into which he was catching bits of light (like fireflies) - fears and wonders, puffs of insight and confusion, spirals of turmoil and swirls of triumph. When he could breathe more easily, he allowed himself to notice that the jar was full and, in his mind's eye, he capped it and sent it out into the floating world saying, "Take it. Take it if you can use it." Leland came out of his meditation tired but centered and got up slowly. He rubbed the back of his neck, pushing away the temptation to hate on his anxiety - choosing instead to simply move forward. Across town, Susan woke up from her nap with a start (and a bit of a headache, her skin prickly and her heart pounding). She felt some of the weariness slide off of her - enough so that, today, she felt she could hang on. "Damnedest thing," she said later to her friend on the phone.