Northstar Vale a manager at a comic book store

my performance is more involved.
she raises her brows, tilts her head. in a few facial motions she has become the subject to a modigliani painting: a fresh and clear face, narrow and vivid eyes. 
"go on, then," air escapes her chest in a hydraulic hiss. "i'll close my eyes." a thrill races up her spine. jump to where she is now, holding her breath, the sunlight through her eyelids looking all red and purple, pulsing like microorganisms under a microscope.