April sat in her room, alone, and looked back and forth, with no conscious thought, between the smoke coming from the candle and the smoke twirling away from the incense. She almost always knew why she felt the way that she did at any time; nights like this, where she felt strange for no good reason, irked her. She didn't mind it; it was wonderfully weird to have a gut feeling and different emotions. For as much as she flirted, and winked, and smirked, she was horribly logical underneath; it was her super power and her fatal flaw. This was something different for her, a feeling of needing to do something, to think a certain way, to do what she was doing. She was in her room, completely dark but for one tea candle and one dark purple lava lamp, both burning brightly. She was on the floor, against the wall in the corner, with her pillows behind and around her. she wore a thin black skirt, with small bells on the draw tie, and a black ribbed top, her hair just reaching to brush the tops of her shoulders. she sat, skirt around her, cross legged on the floor, leaning back and watching the twirling patterns of the incense smoke as if she were stoned. not that she ever had been, but she assumed this was what it must be like. Whatever was over her, whatever made her lose herself in herself, it wasn't anything she smoked, or could smoke. she felt the music crawl all over her, caressing like a lover on the right notes. She slipped down and moaned slightly, her legs easing her slowly away from the wall along the hardwood floor. her shoulders and upper back now reclined against the wall, pillows underneath her for support. she was more relaxed than she had been in a long time, not that she had anything to really feel stress about. she looked up , at an angle, watching the smoke rise and fill in the holes in a layer of itself a few feet above her head. she closed her eyes with contentment, happy that whatever had made her retire to her room early that night was now letting her sink into herself. the sweet haze and sentimental music was like a massage; April's only appropriate reaction was to close her eyes and sigh in unfocused pleasure. she wasn't sure why it felt so good to lose herself in her senses, the hard, sliding, now warming floor below her, the rising drift of sandalwood in the air, and the piano rubbing itself into her temples. she slid down further, against the wall, in her corner. this space was usually reserved for her stuffed animals, her huge lion, the strange family of claw machine winnings and carnival booth prizes, typically piled up, now in the center of the room, April taking their place in the blank space left between the bed and clothes dresser. as she came to the base of the wall, the pillow was at her neck, allowing her to lay almost completely straight, head just tilted up. her skirt had ridden up a bit, bunched under her and above her knees on the top. she still had her eyes closed, as the incense burned out, but left a lingering cloud just out of her reach. This was her favorite time of night, everyone else was asleep, and they assumed she was too. she didn't need to wake up early in the morning, so she could stay like this all night, if she desired.