Plague

“Can you stand up?”

She asks, extending her hand. Her hair is getting longer, now the wind can rustles it and mess it up a little bit. She wears her usual blue jeans and gray shirt today. Her lips are coloured by her newest shade of lip cream; a faded pink lip cream.

“I don’t know.” Her companion replies. “I might be falling as well.”

“But you are already,” she lets out a sigh as she pulls back her hand. It seems like her offer is useless. Her companion doesn’t really want to get up.

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