“I do care,” the guidance counselor would tell
who would stand up and almost knock her chair over.
Her scent would be the same as
the inside of the storage building.
Mildew. Mold. Something sharp like vinegar.
The guidance counselor
would tell her to sit down,
her voice trembling
as if she could sense the chaos
She might try to grab her arm
to stop her. Her skin would be clammy
like the slick inside of a shell.
Her sleeve would fly up,
making the red marks