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She wrapped her arms around herself, more out of instinct than any hope of warmth. Her fingers slid over her skin, feeling, searching. Her fingertips touched frayed fabric. Patches here and there, torn, stuck to her skin. A dress, perhaps, once. The seams were gone, the fabric stiff with dried dirt, as if she'd crawled through it, fallen, perhaps.
She wrapped her arms around herself, more out of instinct than any hope of warmth. Her fingers slid over her skin, feeling, searching. Her fingertips touched frayed fabric. Patches here and there, torn, stuck to her skin. A dress, perhaps, once. The seams were gone, the fabric stiff with dried dirt, as if she'd crawled through it, fallen, perhaps.
