There is a sound like knees being skinned on concrete as she runs her mascara brush through her mousy eyelashes. Her lip gloss is the color of strawberry ice cream after it falls in the dirt; her eyeshadow is the color of bruises from a bully.
She deepens the artificial blush on her cheeks. There is a sound like tricycle tires deflating as she breathes. She's ready to fall in love.
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