The Queen

The sun rise illuminated crumpled red sequin dress in the middle of the floor.

Strappy black stilettos had been dropped at the door. Cell phone at 3% lay within arm’s reach of the charger.

A dark curled wig draped on the edge of mirror and kept watch over a handful of used makeup wipes and a ball of hair-speckled duct tape; padding was piled on the trunk at the foot of the bed.

He was curled up in the center of the bed, covers up to his ears; an ever-so-slight smile still shimmered on his still rouged lips.

smeared makeup

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