Miserable (#121 of 365)

She rubbed her eyes because she was tired, but she rubbed too much. They were that kind of sore where it feels like grit and dirt are stuck under the lids. The pain was annoyance and she couldn’t stop touching. Her logic told her to stop, this is only going to make it worse. But that voice was tiny. Her palm and fingers fought for the action. Her eyes bulged and puffed. She snuck a look at her face with her phone. Bloodshot. Ugh, why did I keep doing that? She kept her head down and walked into the office, to start a day of work that was sure to make her miserable.

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