Masks

The mask itched abominably. He hated wearing it. He could barely remember what it was like before the mask, before he saw its hateful image in every mirror and storefront window. He remembered his own face, though. He’d never forget that. He’d promised himself.

One day, he took the mask off. He stared at it; empty eyes, half-smile, pallid coloring. He walked to the hall mirror, trembling eagerly.

His face was a pale white circle, locked in a half-smile. He glanced down. In his hands, he held his face, his old familiar face.

“What did you expect?” sneered the mask.