Grey

The mirror glares in harsh florescence. My eyes brush over my flawless features: the rugged jawline, the skin like polished marble, the hair which falls in dark waves–

I look closer. Something is not quite right. Something is out of place. Something imperfect crests the waves and slinks just beneath the surface. A single grey hair.

Devastation.

With trembling fingers I take up a tweezer and clutch the writhing serpent. Its fangs sink deep. My scalp burns as the folicle tears free. I watch a single tear slide down my reflection’s cheek.

I try to pull my gaze from the grotesque visage in the mirror, but even wracked with imperfection he is still beautiful.