I rest the cloth on her forehead, covering her eyes with it and work on vanishing her puke from her sink, from her shirt, from her hands. I work on prying her fingers off the sink. She lets me touch her which is another, completely ludicrous thing. I definitely shouldn’t be allowed to touch her. I’m prying the fingers of her left hand off the sink when the sleeve of her oversized t-shirt rides up the slightest amount. Runes. There are runes on her upper left arm. She must sense my distraction because she snatches her hand out of mine, tugs the cloth off her face, throws it at me and stumbles back into her room slamming the door. I stare at the spot she occupied and turn over this new information.