Less is More
She sat alone, entirely alone; imperceptably alone. She had shut the door and (as a precaution from catching cold) the curtains, as well as the windows, were tightly closed. She sat at her little table with its curved legs and modest drawers. The handles elaborately shaped and untarnished from persistent use. She sat looking forward, with her hands in her lap, a face in the elegant vanity frame staring back: naked; real. There was just enough light to discern deep bags under the eyes and worry lines carved into the corners of the mouth. Like in a secret lab, she had before her a number of special jars and contraptions to serve various jobs.
She poured some liquid into a well used sponge and taking the slimy thing to her face proceeded to polish and buff as one does with patented leather. When this was caked on (and dried) she methodically moved on to a very pointed stick, which she took in one hand, while with the other, she stretched an eyelid simultaneously over and down. With a grimace she held this pose, proceeding to scrape across the upper lid with black grease from the sharpened tip. This complete, she grimaced again and drew across the lower lid, right next to the eye. And then she repeated everything on the other side--stretching, scraping, twisting her mouth and straining.
With a sort of miniture sweep, she dusted dirt from a dish over her eyes. Next she took a tube of something sanguine, and curving her lips as if in a mock grin, smeared the fresh blood round and round; smacking her lips finally in an automatic reflex, up and down. Taking a bristled brush, not unlike a chimney sweep, she precariously rolled oily gunk upon the tips of her eyelashes. Then taking a scissor like device that ended in a clamp (rather than the customary blades) she vehemently squeezed the lashes between the metal, so that they were forced back-- and hardening in the black liquid, they stayed curled up like that. With a pair of pinchers, she winced, yanking out several lashes from her brows.
Lastly, she took pieces of plastic from her head. Unrolling them along with strands of falling out hair, she then varnished the mounds with a fixative spray---just like one does for an impermenant work of art that is about to be put out on display. She looked in the glass and gave it a practiced smile. She was pleased to see that there was nothing left of her there...
