She scans the room, from the hollowed out too-clean closet like a chest cavity washed wide open to the shattered glass of the pipe above on which she nearly cuts her ears. She looks at the floor again, all white white white. At the painting on the wall, which looks back. Her guard is not— lowered, not precisely, but. When pain descends, it is like confusion, and it catches her completely unaware.
[warning for mild body horror]