She leans her head in her hands

Eyes closed, brow furrowed

She pulls her fingers back to her temples

To massage the stress away.

She slouches over her desk

Silhouette illuminated weakly

By the small flourescent lamp

Perched beside her on the table top.

Her laptop glows dimly

Reflecting in her skin and eyes

A subtle, unhealthy tinge

Of pale yellow or grey.

This is how she ends her days.