Domino took off her face and placed it in the box along with all the rest.
The thin membrane mask writhed sinuously. She had worn all of the twenty “faces for everyday life and all social occasions” now, and as she looked closely all the masks seemed to be malfunctioning to various degrees. Twenty sets of eyeholes stared sightlessly up at her from faces that seemed to exhibit everything from a nervous tic right up to snarls and violent spasms.
Even worse they were guaranteed to provide a “radical reinvention” of the wearer’s natural look but to Domino they just looked like her own face, just her face on a really bad day.
‘I’ll have to send them back.’ She said, to the reflection in the mirror ‘Otherwise that’s six months wages down the toilet.’
The reflection stared back at Domino showing no reaction, its face just an emotionless mask. While in the box twenty copies of Domino’s face mouthed the words she had spoken.
© 2015 | Frank Regan, All rights reserved.