Beau
“I can do this,” was my mantra once more.
The woman reflected at me in the mirror was different. Poised and elegant, I’d even venture to say beautiful in a vain way. She was everything I always knew I could be, and yet, the tremor in my hand belonged to the fear I couldn’t bury in the sand.
I can do this.
I can do this.
I can do this.
Picking up the red lipstick that Zoe demanded I use for tonight, I touched up my mouth. Over the last ten minutes I had picked up the habit of biting my lip and licking them excessively. The poor shade of red had turned into nothing more than a stain by that point.
“I can do this.” Obsessed, I checked to make sure my lashes were coated with mascara, that there were no smudges beneath my eyes, and that no contour line was visible.