❝He saw her. Lipstick smudged, tulle from her party dress torn, her heels made her teeter like a fawn and her crown peeked over her matted locks in some sort of distorted victory. Her doe eyes glazed from the cherry schnapps she diluted in her bloodstream, mascara streaked her cheeks like rain on a windshield as she cried in a fabricated jubilance for her victory. Her sash draped over her honey kissed shoulders as a glamorous badge of idle honor. Everyone wanted to be her. In that moment of American glory and homecoming queen triumph. He could’ve sworn as the cameras flashed and peers cheered in praise, that the smile plastered on her face, was a mask of an emptiness no one else could’ve understood, but he. Because no one else could’ve understood that sort of emptiness, unless they felt it too.