She

She was late. She looked into the mirror one more time, and found a face devoid of worry. No lines there, except the crinkles at the corners of her eyes. Laugh lines. A smile played on her lips as she walked out.

She heard him call out to her. It was late. She knew that. She turned around, blew him a kiss and walked on.

So what if it was late? She was not going to surrender herself now, not when she had just found herself. They had expected her to give in. But she still laughed. Her laughter sometimes made people stop in their tracks. It was the sound of someone who had never known sadness. Or maybe someone who has loved sorrow enough to kiss its scars away. Her laughter made them want to hope again. As she walked past, they realized she was right, after all.

She walked in to hear them say, 'You're early.'

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