It's months before he notices the way her skin stretches tightly over the bones of her wrist. Her fingers, wrapped around her illegal cigarette, are almost pale, in spite of her tan.
She breathes smoke out. "What?"
Her clothes are layered and baggy; her body drowns in them, mysterious. He reaches over and touches her side, trying to feel where fabric ends and she begins.
She drops the cigarette and smacks his hand away. "Don't," she says sharply, angry. She walks away, disappearing into the crowds on the streets.
He watches the cigarette burn out. He never sees her eat.
No comments:
Post a Comment