Acid Reflux

100 stories in 100 days.

Elizabeth clicked the mirror-light to a soft, warm yellow.

She tried to relax her frown, and then puckered to apply thick gloss, her blood-shot eyes held wide.

Ten years of twelve-hour days had gotten her to where she was in the office.

That bitch Maria wasn’t going to fuck it up for her.

She shook her hair out and pinched her cheeks hard to produce a fake glow.

Then she let out a breathy, tinkling laugh, just like Maria did when someone, some man, had said something very funny, and into the fogged mirror she planted a kiss.

Then she wiped it off with the side of her fist, put both hands on the side of the sink, took a deep breath, turned the mirror light off, left the bathroom, put on her coat, and picked up her bag.

Before she left the apartment, she checked the bottle was still there, in her bag, among the tampons, and the used tissues, and the cigarettes, and the quart of vodka.

Yes, there it was.

She felt it’s weight in her hand, turned it over and read the label.

Sulphuric Acid. DANGER! Causes severe skin burns and serious eye damage.

Then she plopped the bottle back into her bag, and that tinkling laugh could be heard all the way to the elevator.

Part of the 100 story challenge!