She ruffled her hair and parted it to one side. Nope, parted it to the other side. Adjusted her jacket. Tightened her pants to cover up any unwanted weight. Maybe putting on makeup on her face is a good idea. Cover up that hideous acne. What about these hands? Gloves? No, it's too hot for gloves. You'll look weird. Unaware of weather patterns.
"Jesus Christ, I can't seem to go out without fixing everything about me. Why can't I be comfortable in my own skin?" She groaned and slumped down. The long mirror captured her face, a three-dimensional puzzle.
"You have pretty eyes. I like how they have different shades of blue swirling around the pupil. One day, the darker shade overpowers and you have these dark navy blue eyes. And then the next day, the lighter shades win the war and you have bright sparkling blue eyes. One day, the war settles down and you have a gray mix of blues. Your eyes are majestic." I spun my straw in the coffee cup and took a long sip. She stared at me in silence, unaware of how to process a compliment thrown at her.
"T-thanks."
"Don't mention it."
YOU ARE READING
therapy
Short Story"they told us that we needed therapy, as if medication and tainted words could fix broken toys."
