Numbness

High heels. Impeccable pedicure. Nail polish almost the same shade with the skin and also with sandals’ color. Her toes, straight, in harmony with each other, following beautifully the line of the sole. Thin ankles, pleasant curves, nice knees.

It was a sight that you hardly find even on models. I felt the urge to see her face. So, I raised my eyes slowly, admiring her elegant yet not fancy outfit. One of my eyebrows got up seeing her delicately built yet strong hands: she must work physically.

But what a novel was written on her face, bold letters, black ink, fragile paper! Swollen eyes were quietly complaining about an abusive husband. The deep thin wrinkles around them were telling the story of many sleepless nights near the bed of her ill son. Some neck lines, near the chin, made oath that she was never absent from her job. The climax of the tale was her frozen sweet smile. That smile was an entire surviving manual. I suddenly understood the mystery of Mona Lisa’s smile.

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