The clock went off fifteen minutes before its due time for a school day. Sage needed time. She walked up to the window, as if in search.
Ragged, smudgy clouds overwhelmed the late autumn sky. Now where was the Sun? The light to peek into the new day and wash away those pink shreds?
Sage opened up her case and reached for a small, oblong paper box. Her hands trembled as she took out the description. She looked at the words again, for one last time.
Her mind did not perceive the phrases; words collided and jumbled; but she had read the text in the previous day to the effect of knowing it by heart.
Taking a long, deep breath, she let the white plastic slip into her pockets.
The knob on her door turned without a squeak.
Her parents have been up, but she sneaked into the bathroom without being heard.
What if Momma finds out what Baby’s up to, Sage wondered, almost managing a smile, but the mirror reflected a rather clumsy and tortured grin instead.
She lowered herself on the toilet, holding the cup she had prepared the night before in one hand. It was quite hard to suppress laughter. So she laughed some and then cried.
Minutes passed to no avail.
Finally there it was; her pee in the cup.
She fished her pocket for the plastic and immersed it into the warmth of the liquid.
Two more minutes for the Sun to be up.