Concealer (a short story)

Image: inglotusa.com/13166-large_default/makeup-brush-37r.jpg

She very carefully cleansed her face with exfoliator.  She took her time since her face was still tender from yesterday.  She then opened her moisturizer.  The smell of tropical fruits perfumed the air and helped put her in a more relaxed mood.  The moisturizer was almost cool to the touch.  She enjoyed the way it kept her skin hydrated and smooth.  The added SPF to protect didn’t hurt either. 

Gently, she layered on foundation, evening out her complexion.  She looked at her reflection.  She was not happy with what she saw.  That woman would just not do.  She reached for her almost empty concealer and shook her head.  How could she have forgotten that yesterday?  That meant another trip to the mall.  He wasn’t going to be happy about that, but he did want her to look pretty for him, so maybe he wouldn’t be that angry about it.

With practiced grace she applied a dab under each of her eyes, then on various other spots on face.  She took out her makeup brush and blotted it into the foundation.  Magically the dark spots softened and blended mostly into the background.  She put another round of the concealer over those remaining spots that had proved resistant.  This time the blotting finished its magic.  She let a small smile escape.   Now that was the woman he loved to have.

“Hey, Stella.  Get in here!”

Startled, she jumped and lost her grip on her brush.  She watched it tumble and fall to the floor.  She turned her head to the other room.

“Coming,” she called out.

He didn’t reply.  She took that as permission to finish her task.  But first she groped for her brush.  It took a few times before she managed to retrieve it and put it away.  Damn shaking hands.  That definitely would not do.  She calmed herself by completing the ritual with a quick pat of powder to protect her hard work. 

“Stella!”

She looked at the mirror one more time. Yeah, she did good.  He should be happy with her.  Just one more bit of concealer was needed.  She slapped on her happy face and poof; she was perfect for him.

“Coming my love.”    

Tape (an acrostic poem)

To mend that which was ripped apart

A bonding agent stronger than superglue would be needed

People and relationships were sometimes just too broken to just slap together

Even with bubble wrap, bailing twine, and wire

 

Image: upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/3/3e/Adhesive_tapes_clear.JPG/1200px-Adhesive_tapes_clear.JPG

Ramen (Flash Fiction)

The ramen slowly softened in the bubbling water while Mandy watched.  She knew she should eat, but she wasn’t hungry.

“Hey Mandy, watcha doing?”

Mandy smiled a sad smile and shook her head.  “Making some food.”

Kristofer came over and joined her staring at the dancing noodles.  “Can I have some?”

“You can have all of it.  I was just thinking I didn’t want it anymore.”

Kristofer looked at her face, but Mandy kept her vision focused on the noodles. “Really, you can take it.”  She ripped open the flavor packet and dropped its contents into the pot, staining the water a turmeric yellow.  The promise of salty goodness bloomed in the air, and Mandy gave herself a little hug.

Kristofer grabbed a bowl and came back to the pot.  “Do you think it’s done?”

Mandy stirred the soup, watching how the noodles tried to entangle themselves around the spoon, but Mandy was too fast for them.  She was able to navigate those waters without any attachment.  “Yep.  It’s done.”  She picked the pot up by its handle and expertly poured the steaming liquid into the proffered bowl.  “Enjoy.”

Kristofer took the bowl and was soon slurping the contents.  “Are you sure you don’t want some?” he asked while chewing.

Mandy finally looked him in the eyes, allowing her to ignore his mouth and her stomach.  “Nope.  I’ll be fine.  It’s all good.”

 

Image: http://www.thespruceeats.com/thmb/zYbbcVoLtpFLY8sGHvNGZG50vww=/960×0/filters:no_upscale():max_bytes(150000):strip_icc()/mariekeyesramen-56e593233df78c5ba0573041.jpg