It was hard for her to feel beautiful after that
break-up. She hid easily behind sunglasses that
were too big for her face. Every word from her
lips was clothed in the smell of cigarettes. She
didn't want to be alone, she wanted to be with
him- but things had changed. It couldn't be
helped. You could see the roots coming through
her dyed brown hair. Fingers held those burning
sticks like the lungs of someone drowning who
is gasping for air, large gulps choking air down.
I couldn't look at her without wondering how
many women like her there are in the world.
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