She looks at her tattered boots – their soles kept in place by thumbtacks, the once crimson felt lining resembling the color of rotten flesh, the insoles smelling something putrid, the ruined zippers barely holding the boots around her wasted legs and the aluminium-foil tape wrapped over the toe caps.
She knows that she looks a lot worse than her boots. She remembers the day she purchased them. She was the new gal in the town, with dreams of becoming an actress.
She sighs in resignation and consents to take part in the medical research. Better a guinea pig than being homeless.
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