not sleeping anymore

I don't

There is a woman sitting in front of me on the train. Her profile faces me and her knee is hitting my bag of groceries. Her skin is this incredibly creamy beige color, but her hair is fake. She is wearing a wig. It's tinted slightly red, but it's mostly brown, and it suits her creamy skin quite well. Still, it's fake. I know it, and she knows it, though I don't think she knows I know, nor do I think anyone else knows. I'm worried about her young, unwrinkled, thin, creamy skin. As she turns her head, the hair moves in a solid, unnatural motion. I'm thinking about the chemo treatment she is returning from. Although she too is carrying a bag, I'm worried she isn't eating enough. When she gets up and walks through the sliding doors, I'm worried that I don't care about her anymore.

posted by d @ 10:27 PM