friday

poorly lit bathroom.
lingering darkness.
friday morning.

reflection in the mirror gives her a wondering look. pink notes covering the mirror are a reminder of poor choices made last night. broken nails carve into the transparent skin of her hands as she bites her lip. "can't believe you are going to work" he mumbles as he takes over the bed. how much longer can she stoically pretend that she has no limits? she has lost her mind, and she misses it. she is out of optimism and luck; sick of mind games and one-night stands; sick of late night drunk calls, the charm of tequila and the power of short dresses. none of those things bring stability to her life. quite the opposite actually; it all enhances the chaos her daily life has become. she is sick of being judged by her appearance and being judged as a whole.

friday night.
sleepless city.
overly illuminated office.

lights out.