The girl, this lass, she was born with the pelts of two squirrels for eyebrows. Over the turbulent, pitted seas of her eyes, the things often seemed alive.
They were head to tail on most days, except during the nights she slept badly. On those nights, she'd find herself dropping freely from nimbostratus cotton candy. Or sometimes with the fangs of canis electrified by rabid joy plunging into unformed plots on her body.
When the light was back up, she'd take the mirror she kept beside her bed for such purposes and see that the squirrels were snout to snout and tails away, looking at the gap of flesh between her brows like it was the sweetest acorn ever grown.