Roommate Study

She resembled a frazzled sheepdog, with a disposition to match. Somewhere in the blurred static between borders and months gone by she’d curled into herself. Her shoulders slumped to meet each other and couldn’t bear to part. Eyes that once laughed at the sun now balefully followed the lines on the floor. The waggle of her narrow hips as she sashayed through the halls was replaced by a dull shuffle. Maybe she was always that way, and the year apart that unsaturated her had in turn made me shrewd. But I can’t help but feel robbed. Like Italy confiscated her shine, or lost it through customs, or left it drunk on the side of cobblestoned streets. This wasn't her in full color, merely a rough sketch, butchered by the hands of a mediocre artist.