She's run out of things to live for. Teacups and shoes, a hint of collarbone through his shirt. All day, the taste of longing in her mouth. Waiting for him to pass, to giggle hot like a schoolgirl. By midnight the world's diminished to lights caressing the tollway. Signposts that sing of a desperate paradise, his cologne scraping the car's interior. How she yearns in places her body cannot reach. Desire crackling the dash, slicing the night like a scar. The skyline sutured and frayed, his textbook she drowned at the lake. How every moon on a bracelet corresponds with a bruise.