Читать книгу The Man Who Saw Her Beauty - Michelle Douglas - Страница 3

She pulled the wig on over her scalp, tugged it into place, and then turned back to the mirror to make whatever adjustments were necessary.

Adjustments that would help her look normal. Adjustments that would help her look whole and healthy. Adjustments that would hopefully ensure people started treating her like a fully functioning adult again.

Finally she stepped back and viewed her face in its entirety. She reached for her pot of blusher. More colour in her cheeks wouldn’t go astray. She applied another coat of tawny pink lipstick, with its advertised stay-put power, and not for the first time gave thanks for the skills she’d learned as a model.

She stepped back again, viewed her face—first from the left side and then the right—and then nodded at her reflection. Her heartbeat slowed. Finally she could recognise herself. When she ventured outside today no one would be able to tell.

And no one was here now to see the way her hand shook as she capped her lipstick, or the trouble she had screwing the lid back onto the pot of blusher.

You have a lot to give thanks for. Chin up!