100 words for Estoma. I'm a little late, but Merry Christmas.
She walks slowly, like on air. Fitting, because she imagines that she's falling to her death, since really, when has anybody ever tried to walk on a cloud and survived?
She doesn't quite remember what happens next, because this moment is when her vision goes blurry and all she can hear is her name being called by that awful woman at the podium with pink hair and orange lips in a loop that echoes in her brain.
She takes one last step, almost stumbles, tucks her shirt in instead. She must look good for T.V.
"I volunteer!"