Nina promised she would stop. She swore it. Yet when she came home, you see it in her hand. She said she quit, but it’s clear that she relapsed- or worse, she lied and never quit to begin with.

Nina looks tired. Her bright, hopeful eyes that you miss with have been replaced with an unfortunately familiar half-lidded, cynical disposition.

“What are you looking at?” She hisses rhetorically. She knows what you’re looking at. She narrows her eyes, assuming you’re judging her. Her eye twitches.