I stare into the window like glass before me at a person. I look into her eyes and exhale. She looks like an explosive, like at any moment she will burst into flames. She blinks, exposing the darkly colored veins on her eyelids. Like lightning, they are violently informative. Then sighing, she stares back at me. Though she is young, her hair is thinning. Like a frayed rope, the hair strands are all bent and frail. Studying her skin, I notice the scarring from digging he fingernails into her cheeks. The bags under her eyes are darker than her hair. She raises her eyebrows, as if expression is something she has to practice. My focus returns to her eyes, though they appear hollow, they are an ocean. They fill with salt water moments after I count her eyelashes... thirty-two. The tears do not roll down her cheekbones, like razor blades, they leave scar like watermarks. I look into this girl, and feel her flaws enhance, so I step away from the mirror, and put on my shoes, for school will be starting soon, and nobody enjoys being late.
