the art of control

She takes a deep breath slowly and holds it for several seconds before exhaling slowly. She’s rarely aware of doing it, an unconscious attempt at clearing her mind, encouraging her body to reboot with the clean wash of oxygen. After a month of yoga classes, she lost interest and took up the old habit of sleeping until 9 a.m., but the cleansing deep breaths stuck with her.

Thirty minutes into the exam and she’s hit a roadblock. Elbows on the table, she leans her head against her left hand. Long blonde hair sweeping past her shoulders like a curtain, she stares at the test in sudden bewilderment.

The first page of the exam was easy enough. Multiple choice questions were simple to solve. The second page was short answer questions, her neat loopy handwriting started out in easy-to-read print and sloped to cursive as her hand grew careless across the page. It was the third and final page that had her stumped.

She stares at the question, reading and rereading until she no longer sees the question. She no longer sees the test. On the brink on frustrated tears, she sits up straight, pushing her hair away from her face. Resolving to remember the details of what she’d spent hours studying, she takes another slow deep breath. One. Two. Three. Pencil in hand, elbow on table, hand to paper, she writes her answer while breathing slow and steady.