The Mask

She takes trembling hands over the water and cups within them the liquid, cool and fresh. She splashes away the salt dried tears that streak her face with unseen, yet deeply felt filth. She wipes away the dew left on her eyelashes and peers at her reflection. All looks as it should be. She pulls out her make-up and dries her face before applying it all over again. She paints on the mask, with pressed powder compact. She carefully outlines the eyes that are losing their redness still and the mouth that smiles with perfect fakeness. She smiles at her reflection and runs a hand through her tousled coifs.



“It’ll be fine!” She tells herself softly as she packs her things back in her purse, which she swings with a deliberate grace onto her shoulder. Yet as she gives her reflection one last glance, she sees what the harsh light of the bathroom reveals. Eyes red and still dewy. Hair still a little messy from the encounter. Lips still trembling. She ignores these things and instead strightens her shoulders, brushing her clinging and sheer blouse over her skin tight jeans. Her earrings dazzle and sparkle, drawing the eyes. The choker she wears draws eyes to her low scoop and the brazen breasts tucked away under the sheer fabric.



She departs, and as she pulls open the door, darkness and light intemingled with the throbbing pulse of the night. She would ignore her terrors and continue on, only praying she wouldn’t have to face a man like him again. She shuddered as she made her way through the pounding music and rythmic bodies as they thrashed to the beat. The way he had seemed and the way he had done…She shook her head, resolute. No, she would hide her embarassment and terror that threatened to swallow her. As she found her fellows gathered at the bar and as the questioned her with little real concern she laughed and said:



“Oh, I just had to powder my nose! Lets have some fun!” She fixes her forced smile and was lead onto the dance floor, to become victim once again to eyes that can see behind her mask.