Her Prison of Passion
In a small motel room, clad in a single white bathrobe that concealed both her scented lingerie and sore body, she sat across her mirror and tried. She tried to steel her mind, she tried to forget her pains, her sores, she tried not to think at all, she tried.. and she succeeded, almost.
Because at that moment just before her mind succumbed to the blankness, and her hands began the mechanical motions of re-fixing her makeup and hair in readiness for her next client, a few teardrops escapes her eyes... And so it did every evening for 11 years. Until tonight... Tonight she sat across the mirror, dressed in a single white bathrobe as usual, her sores concealed, her mind active, and she tried. She tried to remember this feeling, to drown in it, to keep it locked somewhere safe in her memory. She tried.. and she succeeded, almost. Because even though she never could be free of her past, she knew now that that old motel room was gone, and in this new home, her matrimonial home, she was locked in a different prison of passion, hers... Again, the tears flowed, only this time it felt and had a different meaning...
THE END
Written for @vermillionfox's Fox Tales Contest
Photo credit by @vermillionfox
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Wonderfully told! Ugh, this character breaks my heart!