She had covered up all of the mirrors. She didn’t need daily reminders of the lines crossing her face, of the years of grief, sadness and stress that had etched themselves into her skin. Her papery hands told enough of a story, and short of wearing gloves she could hardly avoid them.
She zipped up the old burgundy dress that she knew was flattering enough. As she reached the top of the stairs she saw him looking up at her.
A smile lit up his face, exposing every line and wrinkle he had accumulated in his lifetime.
“You look beautiful.”
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