sjsprWriting

She looked at her chipped, red nails, a bit dumbfounded. She remembered having done them the night before.

They couldn’t possibly be this chipped.

Her white, satin dress was torn at the bottom, as if someone had stepped on it the entire evening. She remembered having been sitting down most of the night.

It couldn’t have possibly been ripped at the edges.

Her make up was dripping down her eyelids, as if drinks had been spilt on her. She remembered looking at herself in the mirror, stunned by her desolate beauty.

Not even her tears could have possibly ruined such majesty.

Her arms were bruised, and she gazed concernedly at the indigo ripples under her skin. She remembered being completely calm and by herself in her chamber.

Her arms couldn’t have possibly been scathed.

She stared at her broken, silver high-heeled shoes. She remembered having worn them only that night; they were practically new.

They couldn’t have possibly come undone.

Darling, it’s time for bed.

And suddenly she remembered her nails, her dress, her make up, her arms, and her heels.

She turned to look behind her, and saw her reflection on the mirror.

She looked as beautiful as she had the previous night.

Smiling, she looked away, flustered at her own splendor.

She held the hand that gripped her shoulder.

And she glanced up at him.

At his undone tie, his unbuttoned shirt, and his unzipped pants.

“I’m sorry for the inconvenience, my love. I seemed to have forgotten myself.”