She was turned to stare unblinkingly at the nothing out the window, and the staring gray eyes were like chips of dead crystal.  Yet most striking of all was the liquid starlight that flowed down her figure, the rippling waves of white hair that shimmered in the moonlight.  She sat in stark contrast to the dark gloom of the train.

kitchen grabbed

Déjà vu stuck me because

That feeling of blatant betrayal, you always hear that metaphor, “Backstabber” but until then I didn’t know it actually physically hurt.