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morning routine.
 The concrete beneath her is freezing cold, and her oversized jacket did nothing to protect her the entire night. The backpack she used as a pillow has deflated enough for her to feel every hard object in there – her phone charger, her headphones, her hairbrush. She was so tired the night before, she hadn’t even noticed how wickedly it wreaked of piss and stale garbage behind that Shell Station, but now it’s everything in her not to gag each time she breathes in. The sun’s just beginning to rise, but she can’t lie there anymore. It’s been probably two weeks since she’s closed her eyes for eight full hours of sleep, and she’d give anything for a break even if it’s just for one night.
She gets up from the ground, and she slings her backpack over one shoulder, while her free hand takes a hold of her rolling suitcase that’s just big enough for her clothes, makeup, and a few things so she can fake a shower. She comes to the front of the gas station, and then pushes the glass doors open. It’s dead silent in there, because it’s so early in the morning. Her presence draws the attention of the single cashier standing behind the counter, so she smiles at him and then she keeps walking towards the restrooms. She opens the door to find it’s one of those single restrooms, which gives her an ounce of privacy to get ready in.
She washes her hair in the sink – dries it beneath the hand dryer. She changes out of her brown sweatsuit into a lacey black skirt she wears at least three times a week and the same tank top she had on the night before. She brushes her teeth and sprays on perfume. Her running shoes are replaced with a pair of clunky black heels. She lines her bloodshot eyes with a thick, black rim, and she uses some glittery eye shadow to draw attention away from the exhaustion even she can see. She paints her lips red, and she runs her hairbrush through her semi-clean hair.
No one will ever guess now when they look at her, that she’s starving. No one will ever guess she’s wincing because her back is sore from sleeping on the cold, hard ground. No one will ever guess she’s on the brink of crying because she’s so exhausted. Of course…even if they could guess, would they even care?
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