Laughing

She laughs as the roller coaster reaches its peak, and even though all those around her are screaming, she finds herself smiling so wide that by the time she reaches the ground again her face is tired. She realized as she went around the first time that to those around her she probably seems crazy as she bursts into wild, untamed laughter as the track slightly begins to dip, as everyone else on the ride either tries their best to seem stoic or screams as though they can release all the stress and need to seem composed in everyday life in this one moment. And she just laughs, in that one moment not worrying in the slightest about what anyone else might think of her for feeling joy instead of fear.
At the same time, she jokes about her laughing when worried, a remembered trait from early childhood, exemplified when the rides were less threatening and more an excuse to relax in the sun with her parents and not worry about accidentally saying something that starts them all yelling at each other once again. Or if she was worrying about it, she has since forgotten that detail, and still remembers those days at the amusement park in blazing bright light. But she does remember laughing, the joy of the days themselves bleeding into the memories of the adrenaline fueled seconds on the rides. So maybe, just maybe, she loves telling that story so much that when she goes on a ride today, she’ll make sure to laugh, just to make it clear she was telling the truth back then. 
Maybe you could ask me, but I don’t know the truth.

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