Halfway eaten,her sandwich
nestles in its foil wrap.
The glow from her screen
gives light,
gives protection,
from the darkness outside.
The answering machine
beeps nonstop.
“14 unread message”
Her phone glares.
Her parents look on
from the family Christmas card,
on her desk
“Wish you were here honey”
A ritual of twenty seven years,
Six inches each,
as required,
her heels lie toppled over.
She lies next to them
makeup flawless,
She stepped off the elevator
ten floors up
almost twelve hours ago.
Tired,her heart
will never step in again.



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