She started talking more around her birthday. I didn't bother informing her that mine happened to be the day before hers--I had already overstepped my bounds by commenting on how utterly unappetizing pig blood is--but I couldn't help pretending that we were celebrating mine as well.

I watched her in the mirror as I attempted to clean her vanity. Various colors of fine powder dusted the tops of every surface within arms reach, and it was quite a chore to get it all off, but I didn't have it in me to care much about the difficulty.

She fluttered about, dancing and humming, with a silly grin plastered across her face. She didn't even bother to carry around her crucifix as she twirled about. I couldn't help but smile along.