She had counted the times someone had held the door for her today. More than ten people: a significant amount.
Her big toe hurt today. Last week it had been the left one. Her skin failed to hold on to its elasticity here. Wounds didn't heal. Only those on the inside. They answered to the warmth, the humid.
Her pigments refused to consume the Sun's rays.
It was as if her inside was developing, healing, learning. But the outside wasn't catching up. People would tell her she needed sleep, a tan, and face cleanser.
She really needed laughter and some fruit.
But mostly she needed to cling.
On someone as pale as her.
On someone who had slightly hairy legs and smelled like the detergent she loved.
A significant amount of held doors, gates, and exits enabled her to stay.
Now she needed a reason never to let go.
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