The unyielding shining sun of the morning woke her that day just like any other day.

Just like any other day, she curled her hair, and made sure her dress was perfectly pressed.

With her mink brushes and latex sponges, she constructed a face beautiful enough to make anyone blush; man or woman.

Perfectly constructed, her crimson pencil and scarlet stain granted her an insincere, though perfectly pouty smile.

Day after day she wondered how long it would be until she deconstructed?



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