She sits at her window as coffee warms her aching palms. Callie looks at the lotion bottle, wondering if it’s enough to undo the damage she’s done to her hands. 
The skin on her knuckles is like a desert, and the pads of dead flesh are so thick no one will ever think her hands pretty again.
She still needs to wash the knives and other implements.
Her back tells her she’s not twenty-five anymore, hasn’t been for a long time.

Well, no one said butchering assholes and chopping them up for meat was going to be an easy life.

a little 100 word ray of sunshine story.

listening to: the air-conditioner’s hum
mood: calm and happy

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