The Woman
There were pink lipstick rings on the ciggarette and old butts collected in the ash tray like forgotten people, who grew old and were discarded at nursing homes. The air smelled of strawberries and stale magnolia perfume. The lights were dim and shown golden under the beige shades. Her eyes were piercing even in the near dark, they screamed out in green fire and brown smoke. She peered out the closed window, almost squinting in the pale light, so pure and bright, yet she did not blink. She... Sign in to see full entry.