She sits in a swing beneath a tree all alone drinking her wine out of the bottle like she's been a pro at it her whole life time.

She thinks to herself my happy moments are getting farther and fewer in between and I don't know how much lower I can go but she takes another long drink from the wine to see just how far she can sink into the world and disappear.

The swing swings slowly and the branch pretends to bend beneath her ghostly weight.

Her feet kick up off the ground, she's looking for momentum, trying to swing her way to the skies.

She sees in kaleidoscope and her fingers tighten around the bottle's neck, she needs comfort and something real to hold onto as she soars higher and higher.

Her hair flows behind her in tangled waves of slow motion and hectic abandon.

Her feet kick and pull and kick, higher and higher she goes.

The branch pretends to bend beneath her ghostly weight and the swing swings tightly as the rope's taught against the pull of her push.

She's in the air drinking away the remnants of memories she doesn't want to remember.

She tosses her emptiness away on the backswing and gives her legs one last strong kick and the swing sends her higher.

She jumps free into the void around her, feeling the rush of air and a small moment of absolute freedom.

The branch remembers her ghostly weight as the swing settles to a slow rock and then stops.

She's in the sky and her body lies motionless accompanied by an empty bottle of wine.