Her skin droops under the bar’s neon lights, melting away like candle wax. From underneath, a different woman emerges. Disheveled hair. A tattoo sleeve on her arm. Gray eyes that might’ve been green once. With every self she burns through, all that becomes clearer are the screams she hears inside.

Alyson Floyd is a writer, artist, and poet. She hopes to publish a novel someday and then disappear into the woods.