Her face wasn't what I was looking at, at first. And after I'd gotten an eyeful of the breast that was a bit askew, there was something yet odder still; rising from milky slanted shoulders resting on the thinness of her neck, stared two awfully dark eyes. Despite the misshapen smirk it was the eyes I was now locked onto. They were, vacant. I suddenly became aware that more still about her seemed off. I was now drowning in the desire to look about myself and break that unreadable gaze but I couldn't.. I'm afraid of what will happen if I stop staring into those dark mirrors in her eyes. I've forgotten how artificially smooth she was, the scentlessness of her person, the quiet yet knowing mouth, oh god how long have I been staring at this-