Hermiae

she's barely an inch taller - but still taller - squinting at the horizon line and heaving tobacco smoke through resin coated lungs that should belong to a fourty three year old smoker, not an eighteen year old graduate she laughs the loudest when others cast glances and hushed whispers and never misses the chance to tell you she couldn't possibly give less of a shit she likes convenience store mints; the round white ones you'd find at the bottom of grandma's purse that tasted like dust and chemically sweetened perfume, and home she went to a school where "dyke" was spat like poison at her feet but knew exactly what to say when three