mom’s face

“What’s going on with you baby? Why won’t you talk to me?”
My eyes followed the lines on her face. She’d changed so much since we’d moved. I didn’t remember seeing so many roads and valleys on her face before we caught dad in bed with the neighbor. My mom had lost that soft haze that had followed her, the pretty slightly airbrushed look that had been with her for as long as I could remember. Now I noticed that she looked slightly weather beaten. She was a desert, wind and sun worn. The happiness had left her face. It was a ghost town.

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