A GIRL sits at a dressing table looking at herself in the mirror. She is 17 but looks younger. She is small for her age and awkward with enormous eyes that are staring back at her.
It was beginning to heal, but the gash where my eye had been still looked shocking. Clumsy black stitches and swollen clots ballooned in size under my scrutiny.
I bend to read the note. Between heads and arms and fingers I catch the gist and imagine. Small, concentrated brush strokes swish across stretched canvas. A furrowed brow easing