Evelyn seldom graces the mirror with her presence these days, but when she does she prefers to do so without the aid of the progressive lenses which have become essential in bringing the finer details of her world into focus.
It’s not so much the sacred Sanskrit of age which has etched itself ever so cunningly across the canvas of her once immaculately youthful reflection that keeps her away, but rather the inexplicable absence- of even the nuance of smoke- which once rose from her in sharp. hot. breaths. that now causes her to wish to remain, invisible….
Written for Friday Fictioneers.