Bloodshot eyes stare at me curiously, peering out of one of those ski masks that cover your whole face. It wasn’t cold enough for that kind of thing – I don’t even think I’ve ever seen one of those in the stores around here. Must have bought it online. Just black. No design, no pattern – nothing to remember. Just black. The eyes are black too. Is it a girl? A guy? I don’t know. Thin shoulders, knobby even through the jacket. Like clothes hanging off a skeleton. That’s a weird-assed thing to think of, but that’s what it seems like.
L. Marie Wood 