She stares herself down. Cheeks flushed from drinking. Hair loosely pulled back, tendrils curling behind her ears. T-shirt clinging in all the right places. Lips full and fresh and not pointed upward. Eyes so beautiful but so, so sad. "I'm so pretty," she thinks. "Shouldn't there be someone to appreciate it?"
She'd given up on her first love out of a vague feeling of it not being "right." She had yet to stop feeling regret for her choice. How vain is it to decide another person's life without even providing a reason?
She acknowledges that she is probably overreacting. The relationship hadn't even lasted the summer; how could it be a Big Deal? It's sad when a 3-year relationship ends, but 3 months? It's not supposed to be the end of the world.
She blinks, the thick outlines of her eyes jumping back into place. She hadn't meant to fall in love until it was right - the person she would spend the rest of her life with. What can she trust if her own judgment will so quickly fail her?
She bites her lip, hand on the doorknob. One last searching gaze yields no further answers.
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