Tiny Imperfect Fiction 01

Though fairly bored with most of her life, Ellen entertained herself on her commute each day with this specifically vague thought: she knew something (perhaps everything) was there, but she just couldn't see it. 

Ellen found great comfort in affirming what she didn't know, what she could not see. She imagined she was in on a great secret that God had whispered to her exclusively, as if she was the only on who knew there were stars in the sky on a bright sunny day, sadness present at every birthday party, fear on stage with every bold performance, invisible gases exchanged with every breath, and fish oblivious to the water and the world above.

There was a thrill in not knowing. She felt freer and wiser in her proudly proclaimed ignorance. It made planting radishes in her windowsill garden exhilarating, commuting an adventure, and dealing with Steve tolerable.