hip

Sheryl stood in front of the full-length mirror examining herself. The oversize t-shirt hung from her bony shoulders. Her skinny jeans hugged impossibly thin legs. Barefoot, she walked to her dresser, where a pile of white powder sat on a CD case. She brought a rolled twenty dollar bill to her nose and leaned down to snort a part of the pile before pulling on a worn out pair of cowboy boots.

She walked back in front of the mirror to check for any excess before leaving for another night out in Los Angeles.

Young, thin, and beautiful. Supposedly.

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