After spending way too much time thinking up snarky Facebook status updates (I will say, I did come up with some good ones), I settled in for a little writing exercise. A OneWord. Sixty seconds, one word.
That word? Blotches.
She felt heavy in this new skin, but it was a good weight, a good feeling. Solid. Balanced, even. That she had snatched it on the train, late on a weeknight was even better. She’d simply dumped the gloopy innards down a tunnel and waited for the rats, their red eyes glimmering in the doom, to do the rest. Such a great skin, too, she thought. If only they’d last longer. This one was already showing signs of decay. “Oh, well,” she thought. “There’s more where that came from.”
She reached for some foundation, to cover up the blotches. She first needed to feed, then she needed the luxury of new flesh.