“Maybe there’s a God above,
but all I ever learned from love,
was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.”
She looks in the mirror before she leaves. She blinks slowly underneath thick mascara and eye shadow. She looks at her thin bare arms, at the bones in her chest and her thin clothes. She gives her ankle a few twists and a small stomp to place her heel in just the right location. She swallows, she takes a deep breath, she adjusts her breasts and pulls her shirt down a little lower. She gives herself a knowing smile in the mirror, throws herself a wink, and flounces out the door.
He looks in the mirror before he leaves. He looks at his dead eyes, the downward curve of his lips, and his unkempt hair. It’s grown long and dreaded in the time he’s stayed in his apartment. He is impartial to his plain t-shirt and his plain jeans. He is impartial to the garbage heap that his home has become. He is impartial to where he will end up. He does not plan on coming back, he does not plan on how to get where he’s going. He does not plan on smiling. Ever again.
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