Feathers fall from her hair as she shivers cold regrets in an empty stairwell. Her fingers twist like hooks around the metal rail. She laughs, a sudden hoarse cough in the stale silence, as she pries change from pockets of flesh. Her eyes are luminescent and all at the same time flecked and scattered with rust. She camouflages in with the caked on mud and grime; a step, a lampost, a cracked and broken window, some forgotten and aging wallpaper.