Her eyes terrified me. The lack of presence there. The body moved and clearly showed signs of life. People talked to her. She walked. Breaths were drawn.
Maybe the interaction made it worse. I didn't talk to her. Not me to her. There were others there. They were the support beams of a rotten house, the lung and heart machines of a vegetative car accident victim. If only she stood alone, unacknowledged, her soulless presence may not have pressed so deep into my vital organs.
I was trying not to care. There I was, passing by, being the busy gear on a freshly oiled chain of ignore. What do I want to care about strangers for? How does that help? Why does she freely spit desperation and terror with her broken expression? Please keep that to yourself in the future as the rest of us are doing just fine over here.
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