Talking to Mirrors

“Where are you going for your holidays,” he asked?
Looking straight into her eyes but over her shoulder.
She looked straight ahead.
She could not see his hands
As he worked his magic behind her.
Separating strands of hair
With the thin end of a comb
Before brushing in streaks of colour
And encasing in foil.
She replied in a loud voice
For the benefit of all around.
Plucking some exotic location
From a dream she once had.
But both of them knew she wasn’t going there.

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