Her eyes were as black as coal, black as her hair; her lips were redder than blood. Her teeth seemed sharp, even then, in the moonlight.
I had been frozen by her, owned and dominated. But at the moment I warmed to her.
She told people bad things about me; a little truth to add savor to the dish, but mixed with many lies.
Lies and half-truths fall like snow, covering the things that I remember, the things I saw. A landscape, unrecognizable after a snowfall: that is what she has made of my life.
A vacant gaze of idiots.