Years from now she will remember this, the tiny black diamond of liquorice in her mouth. Knowing, if she takes her mind off it a moment, the thing will disappear on her tongue.
She will be in a restaurant with a group of people, desperately smiling, and it will take her by surprise. Her tooth cracking on a hard star of spice.
But now, there is only this. On her back in the warm grass; a money spider on her white skin.
Briefly, she knows who she is. But briefly. Her mind away from results, from the choices she must make. That others tell her she must make.
In a moment she’ll allow in a thought. Try to decide who to be. The liquorice will move on her tongue; and she will build her life from glass.