Equilibre

Cosmetic

Her short blonde locks weren't brushed and her legs were bruised.

"Paris is deceiving" She mumbles.

Her shoes are ripped which makes her dotted socks visible. Her finger tips touch a fence as she passes it by, her rings clinking against it.

People looked at her, wondering why her legs were bare on a cold spring morning. She smiled at them.

She enters a small store, buying a bottle of wine and milk. The alcohol she puts in her coat pocket, her arms wrapped around the milk.

The city didn't know her.

After two hours of walking she reaches her apartment building. Scratched wallpaper and iron bannisters.

She skips up the stairs to the third floor.

Her body collapsing onto the dirty mattress.