I wake up before my alarm, and when my eyes shut, my brain runs with thoughts of her. She works the same shift as I do. She makes the eight hours slip through my fingers.

On the back of my chair, a black dress with daisies on it drapes over the top. I cannot see the nearly invisible seams of the small hole I closed days prior. Even with the pulling of putting it on, not a single stitch wavers, nor loosens.

“Someone’s up early.” My twin brother, Wayne, peeks in with a smirk. “Is it for who I think it’s for?”

“Yes, it is,” I say flatly. “Now get out of my room and mind your business.”

“No need to be rude,” he sneers. I grab a white cardigan and wrap it over my shoulders. “You won’t get much attention from Ophelia if you put that on.”

“And why should I trust you with relationship advice? Impressing girls isn’t exactly your strong suit.”

“Because I talked to her at school yesterday, found out her type.”

“You did?”

“Yeah.”

“And you did so without grossing her out?”

“Yes, Lilly. She really likes it when girls wear sundresses, like the one you have there. She’s practically lovestruck when she sees them wearing thin straps.”

“Okay then,” I discard the thin sweater, “If you say so.”

Makeup takes hours. The layering of concealer feels like a loose layer of skin one could peel off anytime. I do not have anything to accentuate my eyes other than mascara. I cannot choose between pink or clear lipgloss.

“Wayne, what do you think?”

“Don’t ask me.”

“You’re the one who knows what she into!”

“Well she didn’t exactly specify her favorite lipgloss color!”

“Wayne, you are useless!”

“Would you calm down?! It’s almost time to leave and you haven’t brushed your hair yet! I have work too, you know!”

I flung open my desk drawer for my brush. The thick bristles rip through my hair. They may as well be claws.

“Hurry up, Lilly!”

“I’m coming!”

While I fly down the stairs, I wrap my locks into a half-assed ponytail and grab my purse. “Oh, I feel like shit!” I groan, rolling my eyes. When I slip my black flats on, I realize I haven’t put deodorant on.

“Wayne, give me your body spray! Now!”

Without question, he tosses me his can and I spray myself. I’m stumbling toward Wayne’s started car as I do so, practically falling into the passenger seat. My chest heaves against the pressures of stress.

“Do I look okay?” I mutter as Wayne pulls out of the driveway. We’re leaving our subdivision and no answer.

“Wayne, answer me. Do I look okay?”

We’re at the bookstore when he tells me I look somewhat presentable. I get out and slam the car door behind me.