Day 2

She slips out of the room almost unnoticed.  There are voices tinkling with laughter, glasses of champagne clinking in the background. The world is a soft focus of lights, strung merrily around the room for the holidays.  It is too much. The light is overwhelming. No one notices the tight lipped smile as she refills glasses, gives hugs to the guests as they arrive. It really shouldn’t be this hard, she had thought, earlier, but then her mind was upstairs with the sullen woman-child that refused to come down the stairs.  No amount of calling, coaxing, coaching, goading. No amount of sweet implorations. It was useless.  She casts another look around the room before making her exit, sees that she is superfluous to the superficial interactions.  She glides down the long hallway, darkened to discourage explorations. The carpet bends and springs with her step. She draws herself into the darkened bathroom, does not turn on any light. She sits with her skirt hiked up around her hips and pees, and listens to her own breathing as it contrasts with the droplets of fluid she expels from her body. She bends forward, suddenly nauseous, and holds her head in her hands. It would be so much easier to just stay here, ensconced in darkness, she thinks. And two tears, uninvited, slip out, one sprung from each tear duct, rolling fat and hot down her cheeks.