Sunday

Disappearing Act

She had been running away for so long that she had almost forgotten why. Wrapping her billowing black cloak of anonymity around her she covered her face so tightly that she could barely breathe. The need to hide herself surfaced from within her like a sneeze. She skirted around the edges, existing in the shadows, a bystander watching life taking place. She had disappeared so many times now, that she had become amorphous, a kaleidoscope of changing forms, each reflecting a feeling, a fleeting nuance. And now when she looked for herself in the mirror, she discovered she was no longer there.