Morag Dhu on lipstick.
Mendacity Red
“Hey, what’s that shade called?”
“Mendacity Red.”
“Perfect for a lying bitch like me! I’ll take it.”
The starchy beauty robot looked at her blankly and rang up the sale, throwing in some old lady cream, thanks Miss.
“Hey, it’s me. Do you want to grab a bite?”
“Where? This metropolis is such a small town, as we’ve discovered.”
“I know. Let’s wander. We’ll find something. Meet me in The Village at 9, Bleecker and Sullivan.”
“Alright. I’ll be the fat man smoking two cigars.”
“Hey, it’s me. What time will you be home?”
“Oh, not for a few hours. Go ahead and eat.”
“Why, what are you up to?”
She’s up to 8. Like candy covered almonds, once she starts …
One, she loves a lot; one she loves a little, 2 she can’t stand, and one scares her.
The other 3 are inconsequential.
She just feels them on her tongue; that too many candy covered almonds roughness and sugar overload feeling. Enough.
Author Biography
Morag Dhu is an Eastern U.S. seaboard songbird on the fly. She is a member of the Unshod Quills Writers Collective.
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