She had prepared the bath, just as she always did, while arguing with the mirror. That lady in the next room, looking at her, that voice of reason, that caring person, tried to let her know that her life wasn’t looking at her eyes; they were looking at her back. It was too late; now just a floating, grey, cabbage patch kid, HER cabbage patch kid.
- Adam Micohn / maleuronic
Find him on tumblr at THIS LOCATION