On her palm she keeps the meaning of her life, the creases from where she tightens her palm when she's angry. Her nails are chewed to redness like a juicy pomegranate. Unforgiving faces are etched in her mind and transfer to her palm, like the scarlet 'A' embedding itself in a chest. She thinks she's cool when she smokes cigarettes, and she always gives them away when anyone asks. Her house is sad, and she often sits by the side of the road and smokes, inhales gasoline fumes, just sitting and watching the cars go by.
She thinks about all the books she has never read.