The eyes looking back at her were red and haggard, sunk in and rimmed with dark circles. The cheekbones protruded and the former attractiveness that she had never noticed was long gone. The only thing that remained were the freckles, those damn, disgusting freckles, and her unkempt, oily red hair. She began to cry. She didn’t even feel herself fall, but the next thing she realized was the cold porcelain of the tub against her bare back while the small tiles of the bathroom floor were equally as cold against her bare legs, and her eyes were deluging her hands with tears. Doris didn’t know why she was crying, so she cried even harder in rage and confusion and hopelessness. ‘Another fucking day,’ she huffed, her words punctuated by sobbing gasps for breath, her tears stopping long enough for her to breathe deeply. She felt her body slump down even further on the bathroom floor, her bones jabbing into the tile, making her skin feel unfamiliar. ‘Just like the last day, or the 10 before. "They trudged up the rickety stairs. "I'll need to tighten up the railing," he said. "I hope you're not too disheartened, Carrie. The loft isn't much, but we can make it work."At the landing, she gazed around. "Not much" had been a gross exaggeration. He had piled his furniture and belongings in the center of what was to become their living room and covered his meager possessions with a sheet of plastic to protect them from the dirt and grime until he returned. Turning to the kitchen, if what she saw could be termed a kitchen, she groaned with disappointment. A single, chipped and yellow-stained sink had a small counter to its left, maybe two feet long - the only counter space in the kitchen. A tiny refrigerator rested next to the counter to the left, and she could see a small freestanding range and oven to the right of the sink. That was all. The entire kitchen ran along one wall and couldn't be more than eight feet wide, if that. No cabinets, no pantry.When she turned to Darrin, he.
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