It's strange the way that freedom is an essential yet silent component of the human body. It lies dormant between the right lung and the edge of the diaphragm, it tickles your side every now and then, starting a chain reaction of a deep breath then a spontaneous motion. Eventually you wind up somewhere completely alien to you and, if you're like me, you take no notice of what's around as you slowly plod home. It's a dull life, but oh, isn't it safe.
I wrote this as a beginning for a short story in English class today, my teacher hated it.