Combing my long silky tresses, I admired my reflection in
the mirror.Tessie grimaced.
I turned to face her.
Her celluloid image had painted nails, each hair in place
and a made-up face hiding all its flaws while my oils were
a connoisseur’s prized possessions.
“Silver streaks in your hair”, almost gasping.
“I know”, a calm and confident me.
“Let me fix an appointment with Yasmine’s Colour
Parlour”, Tessie panicking, “You have hit fifty”.
“I have accumulated streaks of wisdom in half a century
and will unabashedly flaunt it”.
Thud...... Tessie’s cell -phone lay on the floor, broken,
written for Carrot Ranch Flash Fiction.