The morning after was colorless. Gray hung over the rooftops, gray over the schoolyard, gray in Lina's head. She stood in front of the bathroom mirror searching for something that looked like calm. Instead, she only saw the traces of a night she hadn't slept through. Sabine called for Tom, Markus was looking for the power drill, someone dropped a mug. Life clattered on as if it had nothing to do with them.
"You're not eating anything," said Sabine, as Lina stood by the door with her backpack.
"At school," Lina lied. Her voice was a thin thread.
"Choir practice today?" asked Markus.
"Maybe." Another lie.
Tom was dribbling in the hallway. "Lina, be the goalkeeper!"
"Later," she mumbled and was already outside. The air smelled like cold metal, even though the sky was dry.
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