[ Despite her advice over the network, she has no mantra of her own anymore. Forget Xanax. Jess resorts to cold hard numbers, picturing them in her head: accreting as she breathes in, crumbling to rubble as she breathes out. Just one, at first, but through constant turmoil it builds itself larger and larger, until she can count to two, and then eventually three. Her wild waterfall of tears narrows to a stream, trickling over her lips and teeth. Her grimace holds as she cries tiredly, hollowed from the spouting, seizing catharsis; continually harrowed by how little it's changed.
She sags into him, nuzzling her face to his shoulder to wipe off a layer of saline and snot, before setting it back under his jaw. The tether of her body slackens around him enough for him to pry her away and escape, but her fingers stay twisted in his hair. ]
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She sags into him, nuzzling her face to his shoulder to wipe off a layer of saline and snot, before setting it back under his jaw. The tether of her body slackens around him enough for him to pry her away and escape, but her fingers stay twisted in his hair. ]