| [Jul. 1st, 2008|07:28 am] |
She watched the man she'd been sitting on get moved to the floor, and nodded sleepily. "You sit there," she said, and pointed to the corner, where the head of the cot met the wall.
The other two ends were open; they made her more comfortable. She wasn't trapped.
Her sleeves fell down over her fingertips. She lifted one, using it to rub at her face again. Alcohol was catching up. So was exhaustion. Images of a half dead child had finally been burned out of her mind. She just wanted to close her eyes. |
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