She looks in the mirror. A frown takes over her face like the blackest cloud of a thunderstorm. She sucks it all in so her ribs are completely visible and sighs with disappointment in herself.
She dresses herself and leaves to make herself drive to the coffee shop.
She strides in so slowly, her heart pounding in her ears, and walks past him. She sucks it all up, looking like a poorly fed dog off the streets. She hopes he can’t read the expression of hunger on her face. She watches him and strives to make him love her.
He sneaks a glance at her while she isn’t looking, and squeezes his eyes shut to keep from crying in pity of her. He knows that she wants to be thinner. And he knows that every time he sees her, she will get worse.
That night, he calls her and tells her he loves her. He tells her she is wrong, that she is beautiful. She sits in silence, unable to agree. That night, she called the number he gave her, for girls with eating disorders. That night, when they answered the phone, she said nothing.