She plucked eyebrows like she was plucking chickens, it was not her true vocation, nine quid an hour and a three week vacation in the summer,
the salon was an add-on to the dental surgery and some patients coming out from there looked like they'd been plucked too.

there was not much else to do in the one horse town, not since the one horse died,
no one had the appetite, not even on the specials night at the local takeaway.

she often thought of dying but her hair looked nice the way it was
and tattooing crossed her mind on more than one occasion
but she never felt the time was right,

thirty five years later
and
I swear
that was her,
the eyebrow plucker
used to be a
'looker'
but look at her now