The muted sound of bare feet slapping the pavement fills the lonely night air. The sound slows as she rounds the corner, walking bravely in the dark.
Her stance shows signs of her torment; her clothes in tatters, hair matted, she walks unconcerned, nearing the single light in that dark haven- the only respite from the shadows. It illuminates her, giving her sickly frame a lively glow.
Her age melts and her eyes seem lighter even with their inky coating. Simple eyeliner -the black liquid masks her guilt and hides her sorrow- circles morphing into lines, the stygian covering making her look purer than the whiteness ever would.