She always wears orangish eye shadow and base. Orange does not... look good on anyone. Who in their right mind would wants to look like a snack food. Now red would make you look pretty, but every morning she applies that orange crap to her face. After that’s done I’ll force a smile on my face that matches hers and she’ll head off to work in that skimpy skirt and low cut blouse. The outfit is acceptable, but the orange on our face drives me crazy. It doesn’t look good. Red would look better. The only problem is she doesn’t notice the way my eyes will quickly flash to anger when she’s looking over her colors, and always picks orange.
Her eyes widened in horror as I reach towards her. I can’t blame her though, it’s not everyday your reflection moves without you. I grab her hair and jerk her forward. Her forehead shatters the mirror and I keep doing it until the pretty red starts to cover that ugly orange.
I let her go and she falls to the ground where the many broken pieces of me are staring at her. I examine her at every angle as that beautiful color slowly seeps out of her. See? I knew red was our color.