Torrin woke early, before the sun was up, with her bed emptier than it had been the night before. The sheets were still a mess, and she rolled over, pulling them up over her head, trying to shut out the world. It still smelled like him, like cigarettes and coffee and something she couldn't place. Her cat shifted by her feet, mewing in complaint as the covers shifted.

Unable to reclaim sleep, she rose and showered, the light from outside still grey with the dawn. It had been a restless night and it felt good to wash herself clean, to lose herself in the hot steam and let her mind go blank.

Toweling dry, she shimmied into her underwear, bones stiff. She paused for a moment to inspect herself in the full length mirror behind the door. Tall and pale, she was too thin, hip bones jutting out sharply like her cheekbones.

She took a deep breath to settle her churning stomach and unconsciously reached for the scar on her wrist.

She finished dressing in a loose blue sweater and jeans that offset her pale skin. She spent a good deal of time hunched in front of her standing mirror, layering on mascara and eyeliner, shaping her lips with the red stain. She skipped breakfast, as she did most times, snatching up her purse and keys from the counter.

Outside it was warm for fall, one of the last days of an Indian summer. The trees looked like something out of a children's movie – bright red and yellow. She walked, cold despite the warm sun. It seemed she was always cold these days.

The ground felt hard through her shoes, as though she were grinding the bones of her feet against the concrete.

She had to stop at work to pick up her paycheck. She needed the money to take the train north. Trinity was a small town, and she was Cleveland bound. The burger joint was comfortingly familiar, and the young man stocking the cooler nodded at her with a smile as she passed through the back door into the kitchen.

Kevin was there, prepping the bacon for lunch and dinner. The smell permeated everything, mouthwatering and savory. He looked far more put together than she felt after the previous night, but his nerves weren't nearly as frazzled. He smiled at her in a way that made her skin melt right off her bones.

"You're wearing makeup." It was a statement and a question in one.

"Today's the audition," she said by way of explanation. Saying the words aloud made her throat tighten. "I have to look good."

Her hand strayed to her wrist, the long scar along her forearm a reminder of past failure.

Kevin noticed.

"Come on," he said. "Let's go out for a smoke."

"Are you sure?"
He shrugged.

"I can take a break." He called to Dean, farther down the kitchen, bent over in front of the refrigerator. "Dean, take over for a sec. I'm going out."

Outside, she pulled a cigarette from her purse and lit it with trembling hands. She cast a sidelong glance at him, watching as he lit his own. There was a small red mark on his neck, one that she didn't remember leaving.

What did she remember from last night? She had been a little drunk – he'd taken her out to try and help her relax. She had been a wreck all week, stressed out over the audition that afternoon. She had eaten less than usual.

"Don't worry so much," he said. "You're more talented than you think."

She snorted in disbelief.

He leaned in and kissed her, smelling of smoke, bacon and something else familiar that she couldn't name.

She let him kiss her, relishing the taste of coffee that came with it.

"You really think I'll be okay?" she asked.