Water rushed out the rusty faucet and spiraled down the drain.

I placed my hands under the water

and watched the clear fluid dance through my fingers

then around the porcelain sink.

My eyes stayed down,

avoiding the girl in the mirror.

I twisted the knobs on the sink,

stopping the flow of water.

The brief, calm

silence in the restroom broke

by the plopping noise of the few lingering water drops falling.

As my body turned and stretched out to the left to grab a paper towel,

my eyes met the girl’s eyes.

She stared at me as I stared at her.

We examined each other,

up and down.

I know her,

though something about her does not seem the same.

Her makeup was minimal,

yet no signs of blemishes were evident.

Her dark brown hair fell

effortlessly to onto her bony shoulders.

The frail limbs that hung from her shoulders

once were muscular and toned,

though now they merely looked like bones

with a thin layer of flesh painted on.

faint growl lead my focus to her concave stomach.

She was much thinner than a few months ago;

her hipbones jutted out from beneath

the black dress that limply laid over her body. 

My eyes returned to hers.

The dark sunken circles that surrounded her eyes

contrasted her pale face.

The light brown specks once filled with joy

no longer inhabited her irises.

They are now dull

and deep

and harsh.

I searched her eyes

for even a hint of the girl I once knew,

but she was no longer there.

Her eyes remained empty,

as if no life inhabited her body.

Her body remained,

but her livelihood,

her soul, was absent.

She was gone,

yet I felt nothing. 





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