mine
She lives in the mine. Her world is dark with sharp edges. Further down the tunnel she can hear the sounds of the others, but she never speaks - she just chips away at the rocks with her fingernails, broken and blackened. Light filters down through the grating in the ceiling. Up there they have light and tools. She can hear them working merrily, the sound of metal on stone. She pulls her hands through her hair, sighs to herself, reaches once again to the rocks.
