She was a girl born unfortunately beautiful. We all fell in love with her, and she felt it. Trapped by our love, she couldn't see her beauty, couldn't turn it off. The love must have worn at her from all sides. No solution, but we struggled, swam against the tide.

I knew those who were caught, knew them the same way my brother recognized another junky. The way we moved. The way our eyes followed that happy syringe, burnt spoon, happy girl.

We were unfortunate satellites, and I, at least, sought some other body to distract me from my orbit.


I know a few people like this. Those people that hit a room like a whirlwind, drawing every eye, taking up every conversation. Sometimes the bastards annoy me, but it's hard to stay mad at those shiny pretty people.

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