Opaque

Lamb and Doe applied their war paint. Three thick red lines under their left eyes. Two under the right. One straight down, from their bottom lip to under their chin. They’d talked about this night for weeks. Called it their “Brave Journey.” They night they overcame any number of trials and became adults with a capital A. They mixed bits of pop-culture spiritualism in their vodkas.

From the roof of the apartment building, they yelled out their fears. Releasing the things they believed anchored them to unhappiness.

They stood, stone-faced, before the mirror, looking within, to see what was left.

Prompt courtesy of the Daily Post.

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