She twitched her finger, feeling the picture building up in her mind. She sat up at neck-breaking speeds, scrambling around for something to draw with. She found something cylindrical and found the felt tip, and began scribbling on the ground. She didn't move her left hand as she continued to draw, using both skin and concrete as her makeshift canvas, seeing what others couldn't. For hours she drew, sweat lacing with the muggy air, running down her body, and into her eyes and mouth. Not that it mattered to her. They'd sewn them shut years ago.