A glance so glancy that her eyes bleakly resembled the dusk in those heavy brief moments when it was directed to me. A sinking feeling, much delighted in its downward motion, finds me vulnerable… in need of something to fill up the emptiness being left behind by my fast draining sense of self. I was afraid that her pupils might soon sink completely out of sight, and as it grew dark outside, I agreed with a slight nod to the disagreeable thought, that if that were to happen it’d be quite a horrifying night. Not only would I have to burn the little that remained of my flickering spirit to keep myself warm in the frightfully cold condescension of her freezing words, I would also have to avoid meeting the ghastly wasteland of her eyes. I hope the sun never sets… and if it does… I hope she falls asleep. She looks lovely when she sleeps.