The Peninsula

The Fiction and Poetry Archive of Liana Mir and scribblemyname

That Face

Sep
15

She hated that face. It wasn’t her own face.

Gray prepared herself each day without availing herself of a mirror. She could do up her hair without looking, clean even her face simply by feel, hide herself beneath a hood from shishou, from herself.

Her mother used to smile at her lovingly. The smiles had changed once she’d acquired this alien face. Everyone had been so happy—everyone but Gray.

And now…

“Shishou?”

“Ah, Gray.” He looked at her without looking at her, without wanting her to house someone else’s spirit, without wanting her to be anyone but Gray.

Gray smiled.

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