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Jeans.

That blue faded denim, worn and soft beneath her fingers felt so good. It was pleasantly plush, just about to have to be thrown away due to a soon to appear rip or hole. Carol loved how jeans felt before they were thrown out. They felt close to the felt tipped nose of a horse. It made her want to smile fondly… Maybe her Mom knew that. Maybe that's why for the first time in Carol's twenty three years of life her Mom didn't complain when she asked for a pair of ratty denim jeans for this special day.

Carol was a little like those jeans herself. Stressed, about to fall apart. Used. She remembered when she was brand new, in style and fussed over. Just like these jeans, she had been put away. Stuffed in a closet. Her new closet was Higgins Memorial Mental Hospital. There she sat how, her dirty blonde hair cropped short and boyish. This masculine cut didn't detract from her large eyes that had nearly two inch long thick lashes and utterly feminine face. Her porcelain skin was make up free but still beautiful. It held the glow of an excited young woman. Carol's form, even in those grey sweat suits they wore, was petite and womanly. The season was summer. The thick Arizona heat licked her skin like a hungry cat whenever she escaped the sanctuary of air conditioning that was a white walled room. The White Coat's had tried in vain several times to get her to wear shorts. Never. Her legs stayed out of her sight as much as possible.

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