Dithering on a Precipice. (OPEN)

The roof of the bakery may seem like an odd place to gather my thoughts, but it is the only building tall enough to see everything and yet not be seen. An icy wind plays across my face and blows my hair around, but I am not cold. The mittens made by my mother and the golden embroidered scarf I was given keep me warm despite the winter weather. People walk briskly in the streets below, most people have a place to be in the middle of the day on a week day. I had been at school, but as soon as lunch had rolled around I left without a backwards glance. The quick approach of the Hunger Games and possibly my death had me on edge, literally. I was kneeling next to the edge of the building, my fingertips curling around the slight ledge, and then hanging over the multistory drop. My heart beats loudly in my throat as I think.
"Oh Daniella what are you doing?" I mutter trying to regain my self control. "You could be going into an Arena soon, get a grip." I manage to pull myself to my feet, to quickly however because a sudden rush of nausea and dizziness send me spinning back to my knees to keep from pitching off the side of the bakery. I curl into a ball on the roof and hum lightly to myself as the gears in my brain work out how I am to go about entering the games if I can't even talk myself down off a roof.