Anorexic

I watch as she flips through clothes, her eyes searching, dismissing. She sighs.

Is it me, or are these sizes just getting bigger and bigger? I look at her, at protruding cheekbones and sunken eyes. As she bends I watch her spine curve through her t-shirt.

I don’t think they are. My voice is a cliché, heavy with meaning. Two circles of colour appear on her face, and then disappear.

Maybe I’m just getting smaller. She says it lightly but I can see the triumph in her face and I’ve never wanted to throw up more than I do now.