Sixteen, and already she feels so tired
A weariness that settles in her bones like no other;
And they too- the bones- they ache.
Shadows under her eyes
Like the ones that reside in Hades' domain-
Wicked and taunting and cruel and
Hellish
That don't seem to disappear.
Her gaze is vacant, attention slipping
Always casting about, from the
Styrofoam coffee cup to the newly parked car in the lot
To the aging sign advertising an open auto shop
- 24 hours a day, and the unlit neon bulbs
Look as ancient as
Her grandmother's wedding ring.
She sighs,
Takes a sip of coffee,
Then closes her eyes.
The vinyl seat cover under her is cool to the touch.