Laney is aware. She’s the type of woman who can smell a liar from a mile away. But she listens to the lies. She knows they’re lies. She just picks and chooses when to call someone out for it. Sometimes she really likes someone so she will let them lie if it’s not harming her. It’s probably not the best philosophy but this is just her in her natural state. She’s bare. She’s wound up from no sex. She’s wound up from uncertainty, but she just keeps at it. A few more steps a day. A few more thoughts forced on to the page. Her naked body pimples either from the fan or the excitement of finally having hours to write. She’s a writer with straight brown hair. Dark brown but dyed black. She draws on her arms for tattoo inspiration but she never follows through. It’s too expensive and making appointments is never Laney’s thing. She smiles at the phrase “Fishers of men” written on her arm. It makes her happy that someday she’ll have a book in the world just like one of the disciples from the bible. She’s so ready.