Janey: The curvy mug peers seductively into its pool of icy innards...

The moment was, then, so she got up. She could feel every falsehood in the apparent solidity of the ground, as it rose up to meet the bottom of her father's boots, awkward on her feet. "You know we have to go," said her thoughts, " from this minute to another, on & on no matter how still we stand or stay." She smiled at this, and though no one noticed of the few smattered groups sitting around her, had they happened to, they would have thought blankly on it. "I was flabbergasted!" The stale sentence drifted stiffly past her and convinced her first step forward, then down the four pretentious steps that would lead outside.

She didn't know why she got like this--like she suddenly needed the relief of motion to take her away from nowhere. "You know often I'd rather not talk, and would prefer even less to listen--but even so I keep glancing around, planning on distraction." Oh! but where else to go?! This programmed to a destination, every beginning merely awaits its own end! Like how I wait for the conclusion of this thought, the period to this here sentence... .   Whatever for, when I know I'll just write another, and hope always for another again?! Where else do I even claim to want to be? As a matter of fact, I'd like the answer to be 'nowhere', and identical to the question, wouldn't you just love this to be IMPLIED? Wouldn't you like to apply it to the days--all of them? we're always talking about somebody! If it's not ourselves, then of course it's someone not there to inconveniently disagree--or take a personal stake in the outcome of the conversation, and our final judgement. (Only admittedly dynamic after the fact of our decision. Ahh! try not to talk like this anymore, m'dear... Look how loose your writing looks, the more buried becomes your point. :)