Jenna was standing on the other side of the old blacktop road, gazing towards the house. Inside, well hidden behind the blue steel panel that protected the privacy of a home, was something very special to her. The house itself, however, was not. To her, the house was just like any other in the neighbourhood, surrounded by evenly cut grass and tidy bushes, appropriately groomed apple trees and perfect picket fences. The lawn beneath its foundation descended from the asphalt concrete of the road and into a forest glade further down.
 Letting her mind wander for a moment, she imagined every straw on that lawn, had it been allowed to grow a little, anxiously turning away from the shiny facade, trying to reach for freedom beyond the invisible borders that framed the garden. The crazy notion that a lawn could somehow feel the same desperation over its confinement that once took her over completely, comforted Jennas mind. Her body, however, reluctantly started to react to the memories, all the strain that desperation tauntingly had bestowed upon her. Concealed at first, tucked away while cunningly biding its time, only to metamorphose into this overwhelming, indestructible force exploding inside, this ferocious, unbearable...Â
 The intensity in her stare softened, blurring out the periphery as her breathing started to shallow. She clenched her fists, pushing her nails hard into her sweaty palms. Nothing. She pushed harder, and a few moments later, her breathing slowed and her eyes started to clear up. She tried to think of what other feelings, happier ones, grass straws might feel in an attempt to regain control, while still keeping a firm pressure to her palms. This was something she had found to be a most effective method when her body would not comply. In the few weeks that had passed since her breakdown, she had tried other distractions that was more “beneficial” or “less harmful”. At least that was what people on the self-help forums online had assured her. Still, the many scars in her hands made it obvious none of their well-intended advice had worked. And to Jenna, the one most harmful thing in her life right now was not physical pain, but desperation.
 “Hi!”Â
 The sudden eruption of sound surprised Jenna, momentarily impairing her breathing once again. She quickly put her hands in her pockets and turned her head to face the direction in which the voice had come from. A woman on a bike passed, waving her fingers in a lame attempt to greet without letting go of the handle bar.Â
 “...Hi Tamara” she exhaled, fixating her eyes on the bike as she forced herself to slowly start walking in the opposite direction. Tamara slowed down and graciously got off before it had stopped completely. She led the bike a few more feet before leaning it against the fence that was separating her house from the neighboring blue house. Jennas house. Jenna watched Tamara make her way to her front door, seemingly unaware she was being closely observed. As she entered the hallway and closed the door behind her, Jenna stopped moving instantly, trying once more to regain control of her breathing. She hadn’t realised it was already after five in the afternoon. He would be home any minute now. It was time to leave.
 She started moving again, taking a few more steps until she could se the left side of the house. A quick glance up its second floor windows, she hoped to catch a glimpse of what she was trying to see before. And there, in the window to the left, she had found the object of her interest. A cat-shaped figure squeezed in between two symmetrical flower pots. Her lips started to twitch. “Hi there Chibbie-nibbie” she whispered, making that same, tame hand gesture Tamara had done just a few seconds ago.Â
“I love you”. Don’t you worry, I'm right here baby girl”.
She couldn't tell whether Chibbie could see her or not, but knowing cats as well as Jenna did, she had a feeling Chibbie knew mommy was out there.Â
“I’ll be back soon. I love you.” she said one more time before turning away, once again leaving the blue steel house behind.
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