Her bed is a warm home made of duvets and pillows that were once clean and fresh. But today she cannot be bothered. Clothes thrown everywhere, but who needs clothes. Who needs clothes.
There is no food in the fridge, but there are chocolates on the side of the bed. They have been stepped on, but they're still good to eat in the short moments when she's awake. There's tears falling lazily, unnoticeable. Her nose doesn't even wrinkle up, her skin calm and frozen under leftovers of a full face of make up from three days ago.