I try to relax my face. My cheeks sunk as I look emotionlessly at the mirror. Two puffs of flesh rest at both edges of my lips.
When I was younger, I wondered why the aunties always had a hollow blank look on their faces. It was as if their souls, together with their faces were drawn long by bad news. More often than not, they smile brightly the next minute, talking to other aunties about their day. But when no one else was looking, their faces revert back to the hollow look, slightly sunken cheeks and emotionless eyes, their whole face not unlike the shape of a gourd.
Now I know that is their neutral look. Wearied by a thousand bright smiles and tears, their faces no longer bounce back to a taut expectant look of a child. This is their look of neutrality, as they twitch their brows and smack their lips through the day to shake off the stiffness of a smile imprinted into the shape of their faces. This is their look of sereneness and relaxation.
I lightly pushed up the flesh at the edge of my lips using my index fingers. Who would have thought? 28 years is enough to make a person grow old.
