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Make-up

Somewhere in between my third gum of the day and second eyeliner touch-up I decided to let it go. The game is getting confusing and I am bored. The murmuring lips scream for a color so red, I should have seen all the warning signs. There was nothing innocent about the breakfast invitation, I dissected the message behind that tug and twirl like a seasoned detective. We smeared my eyeshadow while trying to look into each other’s eyes, I blame shu uemura’s smokey eye effect. And the cocktail dress. I remember the circling movements on my neck and the angry phone call from 1000 miles away. The blusher was irreversibly superfluous.

I will miss you, you know?

I know. We should be friends.

He smiled. I applied the last touches to my lips, wiped off the remnants of charcoal below my eyes and my overclouded (overcrowded?) heart, slipped on a little black dress and stepped out of the door. Should all acquaintance be forgotten?

 

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