She sat at the desk, pondering her existence. With all the heartfelt emotion and passion of an eighteen year old out to discover herself, she mentally traced the boundaries in her life. Perhaps, if she traced over them enough times, they would eventually wear out. What place had logic in a process like this?
Probably somewhere between the monkeys and the birds. All those archaeologists and paleontologists and scientists and -ists making the connection twixt humans and animals. Just a matter of deciding which animals. Like it mattered. Perhaps, if they chose a mystical and majestic creature, the God fearing souls would have nothing to protest against.
Life came down to big perhaps-es. Lotsa them, too. Perhaps God made the universe. Perhaps the cake was too old to eat. Perhaps the world ended tomorrow. Perhaps . . . she was high and this was not her speaking. It sounded like the easy over thoughts of a melodramatic pothead, but she was pretty sure she never took drugs.
Perhaps she was just dreaming. Thinking about existence did that to you. Put you to sleep.