She keeps rubbing at the dark smudges underneath her eyes, as if they are just poorly applied eyeliner that can be wiped away with her thumbs. Her lips are bruised from worried teeth. When she sits by herself, she can hear her heartbeat in her ears and wonders if her blood is blue instead of red, because that's the way it feels as it rushes through her body.
Tired shoulders and aching knees and tangled hair in her face . . . life has become so small . . . .