Prose of polish passed

The chemical stench assaults her nose and makes her head dizzy. It burns her eyes -
The crimson flows into the cotton and drips like the blood of her spirit into the wastebasket; it stains her fingers with each wipe.

She does not cry chemical tears though, these tears are real; as one color of her youthful spirit's hopeful abandon disappears from these fingertips.

Tomorrow she goes to work in the world of non-believers; in the world of hate and judgement born of ignorance. But Allie IS real - she is still here but must hide to survive, to earn her living, to maintain her medical access.

It's no small sacrifice to shed this appropriately symbolic 'blood' off her fingernails to exist stealthily another day, concealed within business casual and false bravado.

It's a bigger sacrifice of spirit though.

The tears have dried on the outside at least;
Her inner strength is fierce, and real.