I've just come from the ladies room here in the office building i work in. After washing my hands I decided to touch up my lippy as it's been a long day and as usual it had worn off.
As i held the applicator in my hand and turned the knob, exposing the pointed cylinder of pink shimmer. I imagined that this colored crayon was once a boss I had long ago.
He had been an awful boss. A short insecure man who thought he was Napolean. And in my imagination he was a lipstick that got worn away gradually. Existing only to color my pretty lips.
Then i stopped pretending and put the little bastards cap back on. he was an awful person who I turned into a beauty item. He's never going to leave my purse unless I use him up and throw whats left in the trash.