In My Skin
We’re huddling around a campfire, desperately trying to grasp onto what little peace there can be. Some haven’t eaten all day- some haven’t eaten for days, their hands jittery as they breathe in the smoke, hoping that it’ll somehow fill the emptiness in their stomachs. Despite my own hunger, I linger back- the smoke feels heavy in my lungs- not my stomach. Everyone is appraising the other, trying to figure out if this group is good for the night.
