She looked into the mirror at the new face watching her from the toothpaste-spotted glass she always neglected to clean. She drew her skin down, pulling her pale features into a gaunt and long-expression. Was that really her face she wondered? Who was it staring back at her? There were hints in the strange face that tugged at her memory and reminded her of something she might’ve known as herself. 

​

      The clock ticking from its place upon the mantel in the living room, matched the rhythm beating in her chest. She didn’t recognize the beat or the chest containing the resonating thumps. She often imagined a shelf full of faces. Different masks she wore to tell people she loved that she was an okay, functional, human. Was she? The green eyes meeting hers seemed to be those of a stranger asking too much and the fingers stretching the foreign skin seemed too long and fragile. The more she sought herself in the mirror, the more distorted the figure before her became. She was further and further from her body as if watching it twice removed. An onlooking bystander and nothing more. 

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      But she knew she was more. Or at least, she knew she was once. She willed the strange face into a smile, hollow but convincing enough. She frowned, creasing her brow in anger and then laughed. Nobody would know how far away she’d gone. Nobody.

​

      As if for the millionth time, she began painting yet another mask on top of the strange new mask she wore. A dab of tint on her lips, a sweep of eyeliner and a hint of mascara. She pulled up the thick auburn tresses, marveling at the strange new texture at her fingertips. It was hard to remind herself that she was the only one who didn’t recognize this face as her own. Hard to remind herself that she was the only one who didn’t recognize the body before the grainy mirror. Pushing down the rising panic, she smiled and then laughed flirtatiously, waggling her fingers to the figure in the mirror, before walking out of the bathroom. With one last longing look in the direction of her bedroom and the nest of pillows she had shed to get ready, she moved towards the door and the rest of the world. The mask over the mask perfectly in place. 

​

~

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      People mingled, their voices tit-tattering a background noise to her ears. Her strange, long fingers were wrapped around an elegant champagne flute, and she smiled encouragingly to the out of focus face before her. He was saying something… Something about the economy? He asked her a question and she strained to reach back and find out what. With effort she focused her eyes. “Sure thing.” She purred.

​

      He led her away from the golden, crowded room, towards the balcony and held the door for her as she glided elegantly out into the chilly sea breeze and shivered. Without hesitation, he took off his jacket and draped it over her arms. She looked up at him and smiled, “Thank you, you’re too kind.” She turned out towards the night. It filled every open space and swirled through every nook and cranny. The very air she breathed was particles and pieces of that very darkness. Her fingers blurred into the night as if she was joining it in its song, soaring with the crescendos and gliding low with the deep notes. She could see the auburn figure, her frail body a stark contrast next to the handsome, almost-stranger. How small she seemed. 

​

      “I’m really glad you came here tonight.”

​

      She jolted, suddenly feeling the marble beneath her thin shoes. “Huh?’

      “I said, I’m glad yo--” 

​

      “Oh yes, me too.” She smiled. “Such a beautiful night isn’t it?” She placed a hand on his arm and met his eyes which were filled with her but as she took in his gaze she could find no semblance of herself there. 

​

      He leaned in with a longing for the auburn girl in his eyes and something inside her chest cracked as his lips brushed across hers, and she drew him against her. Hoping that even though she couldn’t find herself in his eyes, maybe she’d find herself somewhere in his embrace. He cupped her face delicately as if she were a fragile bird, and he ran his other hand down her back, holding her there. 

But she wasn’t there. She didn’t find herself in the whiskey on his tongue or in his collar gripped in her fingers. She didn’t find herself in his quiet whispers about her beauty. She wasn’t in the elegant velvet green gown or the shoes as she kicked them off her feet. She wasn’t there.

​

      Sighing, she broke away from him.

​

      “What’s wrong?” The concern in his eyes would have made her laugh if she didn’t have the ounce of control she still maintained. 

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      “Nothing, nothing at all…” She stepped towards the railing and gazed out into the night. The ocean lapped at the shore, down past the balcony and the small expanse of soft sand. It glittered mirroring the stars above, and she wondered if they saw themselves when they gazed into their cool reflection, pooling out in clearest parts of the water. She imagined diving in and feeling the cold water. Feeling. Maybe if she could feel the water she would find herself there. Maybe then she’d wake up from this nightmare and remember her own face. 

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      “Do you fancy a bit of a swim?” She turned to look at him, daring written across her face.

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      “I don’t know…” He scratched the back of his head. “It’d be pretty cold, freezing really and they’ll be expecting us inside.” Then catching on to what he thought to be a joke he said, “But I’d love an excuse to be wearing less.” He winked and joined her at the railing. 

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      She laughed shaking her head. Convincing someone who was hardly an acquaintance to jump into the frigid pacific in the middle of January wouldn’t do a good job of convincing everyone that everything was perfectly normal, that she was okay. “You would, wouldn’t you.” She turned glancing back at him over her shoulder and made her way inside ditching his suit jacket on an extravagant candelabra and melding into the crowd. Certain he’d search for her almost all night. 

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      She slipped into the empty coat room and gathered her things with half interest. She had somewhere to be. Strings of music filtered to her ears and unknowingly she hummed along as she swept her coat over her shoulders and floated out into the hall. She might as well as be hovering as she moved. “I haven’t a care in the world.” She fluffed the words like pillows but they still sounded empty.

​

      As she stepped out of the ornate marble entryway, her bare feet left the firm stone, and she was met with the cool night. She drifted off into weightlessness and blankets of stars and as she moved further out, every memory of who she ever was or ever would be floated away from her merging into the darkness. She looked down into the sea, to her reflection there. She was little more than stardust. Exploding light years away from all that had ever been familiar. That’s all she’d ever been or ever would be.