Lonely souls
One day she was told that her face didn’t match the words. The words would say something and the face would negate it.
It’s crazy, she thought, that he of all people is telling me off for this, he who is a piece of sculpted stone and wouldn’t even leak the blood running down his forehead.
She accepted that this could be possible. Did she have a crazed mask on her face that she couldn’t control? What had that face of glass said unbeknown to her, stealing her power of words?
She set about looking for someone with the same problem, she stared at people who were speaking in the hope of seeing signs of disagreement, but she didn’t really know what she was looking for and wandering around looking at the faces of strangers just provoked unpleasant reactions.
Since then, she rarely looked at herself in the mirror, just with few quick glances so as not to get sucked in. As for words, she just used those that were really needed, she learnt to make a quick selection based on what was required at that moment. Then she went to a dreams expert and the nightmare of the face disappeared, taken away by a flock of birds.
“Thoughts are lonely souls that don’t like travelling in company”. This is what she wrote in her diary, as if she wanted to explain it to someone.