Casual Fire Alarms

She adjusted her glasses. Balancing them precariously upon the slope of her nose. A small nose. An unimaginative breathing device culled thoughtlessly from the excess of her cheekbones. Wholly non-indicative of attention or ethnicity. A plain doorstop for the bottles thrown open to her lips.

Seeing is a strange phenomena. Casual and unrequited. Sticky notes lurching onto her thoughts in a yellow hail of passive suicides. The poison in the second hand trickling into her veins. Calm infections quietly filling her in with black.

Every road blotted out. The whole of the map completely useless. Staring at her arms in vain oblivion. The atlas of herself indecipherable. Every destination an inkwell. Each landmark lost.

Left alone.

With the moment she realized she always had been.