A short scribble. Mostly a flunked short story, but I like this part.
Music blares from the speakers of my old radio as I stand in front of the mirror in my room, dancing and singing loud–and very off key–Taylor Swift songs. With a final twirl I spin around and grab a tube of lipstick. A moment later a crimson-rose smear of it has appeared on my mouth. My long black lashes are covered with a light coat of mascara and I am wearing my favorite dress, I’m goin’ dancin’.