Because she likes the feeling of blood rushing to her head,

this one time I walked into her room and she was balancing in headstand position on her bed. She had her back and legs up against the wall in a straight line as if suspended by some transparent web. Right now I can imagine all of the blood that filled her body, from the tips of her toes until the last vertebrae, slowly seeping into the top of her head like food die dripping into a bowl of water. The red color would form thin curls that look exactly like the smoke that is escaping my mouth each time I take a drag of my cigarette.