Her grass traced the curves, folds, and wrinkles of her form. Straining the muscles in her stomach she sat up. The low, restrained and deep orange sun shone over and through a light covering of leaves at the top of the border. Behind Emily, the very same light refracted and snapped through her stumbling glass window, sparkling onto the surrounding dew. To her left and right was nobody.
She could feel the vast gravity of her disproportioned and slanted ground underneath her as the Sun continued to stride bravely into the horizon. The darkness of the regular, square border would have been suffocating if she had been any closer. But she was central, completely equal.