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The same shock awaited her every time she opened her eyes. The aqua blue paint on the walls shone too bright in the light coming in from the window above. The white sheets, though in desperate need of a good washing, were too light colored for her preference. The entire bedroom felt sterile, despite the slight stink she could not rid it of, and foreign. She had opened her eyes in this room every morning for a few months now, and she still felt like a stranger passing through.

Perhaps that feeling would never stray. Lenore liked to believe it would, but what did she know anymore? She felt like a stranger in her own life, in her own body. Nothing felt familiar when she opened her eyes anymore, and nothing felt like her.

It took the majority of her will power to roll out of bed, which she did quite literally. The bed frame stood a good foot off the floor, but she rolled off the edge of the mattress without regard to the drop. Wrapped in a cocoon of sheets, slick from sweat gathered overnight, she hardly felt the landing against the hardwood flooring. With a slightly dramatic grunt, she began the process of untangling herself from the sheets and standing up. The roll of the bedding felt heavy in her alarmingly thin arms, and it took all the strength she could muster to lift the massive wad up and toss it back onto the bed.

Up but not yet awake, Lenore began her daily examination of her state of well being. The ghost of a person staring back at her as she dragged her tired legs in front of the floor length mirror would have been alarming if the progression to her current state had not prepared her for it. The lightly toned muscles that once hid under a thin layer of fat had disappeared in the last few weeks along with said fat. The reflection that stared back at her now from the mirror was of a skinny girl, the body tone of an actress and not of the accounts manager she worked as. Or used to work as, as the situation probably stood now. She no longer knew where her life stood.

Her slight tummy that had once stood noticeable in a baby tee no longer existed, replaced by a flat stomach and the just noticeable ridges of her ribs. A while ago, she would have killed to have trimmed the fat and lost the weight she now had, for she had never been completely satisfied with her self image. Now, the face that stared back at her with its pronounced features and edges was one of a stranger, and she would kill for a surf and turf dinner on which she could feast.

Resigning to the reality of the day that stood ahead of her, Lenore moved away from the skeleton of the stranger in the mirror and in turn faced the task of trying to find something decent to wear in the minimal closet space the bedroom afforded. The clothes behind the aqua blue painted sliding door had been too baggy when she had first moved into the room. Now they simply surrounded her like a tent. She moved through the clothes on the hangers as she gave the obligatory sniff test to each. For the garments that smelled passable, she offered a closer inspection. The ones with noticeable stains she passed until she finally reached a shirt she could deal with for the next day or two or three.

The forest green top hung past her fingertips as she pulled the fabric over her head and dropped her arms to her sides. The black pair of leggings that she had worn the day before, which were starting to tear and pinch in several places, still sat in a wad on the floor of the closet. A frayed and torn pair of jean shorts accompanied the leggings, and she pulled them on. Leaving the previously discarded boots, which were a size and a half too large for her anyway, she opened the bedroom door and forced herself to face the day ahead of her.

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