gemma
The traces of red polish on her fingernails could be blood.
Perhaps is.
Her uneven nails travel slowly along the seam of her
thick black smock, snatching at and removing loose threads.
She blinks, once, then twice,
The smell of tequila floats from her mouth
the smell of cigarettes from her hair.
Perhaps is.
Her uneven nails travel slowly along the seam of her
thick black smock, snatching at and removing loose threads.
She blinks, once, then twice,
The smell of tequila floats from her mouth
the smell of cigarettes from her hair.
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