Within a drab buffet restaurant where the aging came to dine, I met a glimmering hostess. Pink glitter twinkled across her skin from head to foot; climbing her cheeks, creeping down her neck bellow the collar of her sensible black blouse, and reappearing from beneath her sleeves to adorn her arms. Microscopic flakes flashed beneath the fluorescent overhead lights, winking at me like tiny secrets as she returned my change to me.
Such a fabulous display of unconventional self-love sparked marvel in me. Moved, I said to her, “Your glitter is wonderful.”
As if just noticing me, she responded only with a polite smile. Because she didn’t need me to tell her so–she already knew.
I’m always tired, so please consider buying me a coffee to keep me awake while I write the next story.