when they found her, there wasn’t much of her to find. twigs and cracked blush. her nails had always been cut to the quick but painted a deep red, almost black. i would want the blood to be seen, she would tell me, when i made you bleed. her eyes were still open, staring at strewn tic-tacs inches from her mouth. as if she threw them up. a twisted arm was snapped out behind her, her palm in that half grip of someone just barely hanging onto their purse while chasing down a cab. they found one of her shoes by the curb, about fifteen feet away, where she must have tripped, they say, trying to get away. she got away with everything but in the end, it all caught up with her.