"Not today." It's tight and short and she's pulling her knees closer except she can feel them this way they're pressing too much and she wants them to not be there but then there's nothing to hold on to.

People hold on. It's what people do.

She has to stand up, and she does, and she can still feel the pressure from where they were touching her chest, still feel the way the shirt's clinging a little.

"No, thank you, not today."