visible blue veins

her house is quiet. quiet with a chance of stepping on eggshells, tiny shards of white shell ground into the plushy suburb carpet. I can feel the tension coursing through her veins, as she pads up the stairs to discuss tonight’s plans with her mother. the first time I saw her mother I was surprised. the way hannah talks about her I expected a bossy woman with big shoulders and arms, ruddy skin. she hasn’t talked to her own mother in two years, she hasn’t talked to her sister in three. but hannah's mother is small, with a wilted kind of posture, smudged blue eyeliner and wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, a crinkly smile. she is soft with visible blue veins running up and down her neck and wrists.
when we sit in class I can feel the row of lecture seats pulse with the nervous bounce of hannah's leg. she constantly shakes her right leg. I’ve taken to pushing my hand into the top of her knee when I see her doing this. her face flushes and she takes a pause in what she’s saying, and stops.