Rest room
October 20, 2015In the bathroom of the funeral home, she washed her hands, then reached for a paper towel. As she pulled it from the interlocking stack, it carried its brethren with it, their thin bodies drifting to the floor like souls.
She had known better than to apply mascara to her bottom lashes, but nonetheless, a ghost of her make-up hid in the crease below her eye. She wiped it away with one finger, then let her palm cup the side of her face for two heartbeats, assuring herself of the warmth beneath her skin.
100 Proof 
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