Adventures of TheJournalist25

When Being Miss Independent Goes Wrong

Standing on the wooden platform with my helmet adjusted just right on my afro, sunglasses on my face as sweat persisted to slide them off, and oversized brown gloves on my hands. I wasn’t sure if the sweat all over my body was because of the July heat or nervousness as I wiped my face, and inhaled deep breathes several times. 

I had gotten myself into something that only 13 lines through the forest by myself could get me out of.