Writing

Vanity Reflection

White silk curtains blew against the frame of the opened windows. Thick carpeted rugs cushioned her bare feet. Stained wooden floors glistened against daylight. Extravagant furniture decorated the room.

Sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair, she imagined what her life had come to. Curl after curl she pinned to the top of her face. Sea green eyes stared back at her in the mirror.

Who was the young woman she saw in the mirror? Eyes of a scared little girl, not an adult. Fully grown and dressed in maturity. But carrying a heart full of sorrow, questions, and bitterness.

Appearances aren’t everything.

She was still a child.

Comment Below:
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