She loses her tears as if climate change spilled into the streets.
The water curls her straight hair, and her narrow eyes turned to crinkled slits.
The frown that was a smile pierced my eyes with a heat I couldn’t bear to touch.
Her voice grinds my nerves liked crushed rocks, and her eyes darted to the hillside, tucked inside a small farming town.
And I’m better off dead.

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