Thick and Tarry

Her smile hid her pain, deep and dark.  It bled from her like an oily substance slowly dripping to the ground, thick and tarry.  Her eyes never met another’s, always looking past you as if something more interesting is lurking behind you.  Her hands trembled, trying to unlock the door.  She moved slowly, as if stuck in mud, feet pulled up swiftly with every glide.  Dragging her body, as if her limbs were too heavy for her to carry, she walked through the doorway.  Outside, the sun shone on her face, too bright.  She clenched her eyes shut as if it hurt to keep them open.  She gazed down to the ground, searching every stick and leaf for a sense of solace that she does not receive anywhere else.  Her hand glides through her hair, greasy and hanging heavily.