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a throbbing pain in her jaw dried blood up her nose phlegm in her throat she coughed and seven years had passed she found seven stitches in her lips seven scars on her skin seven strings of white hair no lover no palpable sense of self no notion of time behind her the ghost of a dead cat of a dead man around her cold and sharp air filling the gaps with each breath time was stretched as a string attached to the next one as a thought suspended in its journey down the loophole the mirror did not return the favor under the dim light in the graveyard of her skin she carved a word of a dead language she can no longer utter her tongue dry as that