On One Hand

April 10, 2005

Filed under: Uncategorized — ononehand @ 1:48 am
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Her left arm is pressed to her breast, knuckles gathered to the soft fleshy area beneath the shoulder. Her worn flowered dress hangs loosely, matching her thin lips in color. Her hair is brown and pulled back. Her right arm tilts outward, holding a near-exhausted cigarette between fore and index, fingers dangling over the wineglass ashtray clutching the filter like an old fruit on an abandoned tree. Her legs are crossed beneath the table, her elbow rests on its wooden surface. Her lips are pursed. The diagonal sun slants through the kitchen window, catching her pale face and marking the high contrast between her prominent cheeks and shadowed eyes – eyes marred with too much makeup, eyes glazed by smoke and exhaustion, eyes that gaze mysteriously upward at the light. Her face is hollowed by longing, loneliness, regret, or all of these. She is looking over her shoulder, out through the window.

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