Father's shirt

The clothes are baggy on her, the shirt of her father, the jeans of her brother. She ties her dark hair back and runs a shaky hand across her chin, eyes down, the floor hard beneath her when she sits. In the corner of the room in an empty house, silence in all things. The cold creeps under the door, finding her bare, filthy feet and she draws them under her. Her knees are drawn to her chin, she pulls the shirt down over them, covering her completely.

She remembers doing this as a child, pretending she was a penguin and the thought almost makes her smile.