Unattainable

Sole

Sole

This is a world in which masks must be worn to cover everybody's faces. No blemish or beauty can be seen; everyone is made equal. No one can feel jealous or superior. It is said to help control the people's emotions; if you cannot see someone's face, you cannot see their facial expressions, reactions. You cannot fall in love with someone you cannot see, you cannot judge someone based on their looks.

The masks cause insecurity and mistrust; how can you see what is genuine if all you can really see is the emotionless yet scarring face that is identical to your own? It is every man for himself...

It's slipping.

I can feel the wire digging into the skin through the gaps in my braid, no doubt creating another scar; a scar that will be covered up with foundation and excuses, perfume and lies. No one else seemed to have a problem with the sugar white masks; no one else seemed to have a problem with anything.

My fingers itch to adjust the mask; I am almost certain the top of my forehead is visible. I curl my fingers into balls, the nails digging into my palms. I stand still in the town square, the white bodies blur together around me, my sight out of sync with my mind.

"Your soul is fading."

A whisper so quiet I feel I imagined it, and yet my senses are spiked by the breath on my neck, by the gentle threat of a lifelong promise.

"Excuse me?" I don't turn my head, only glance out the corner of my eye.

His forehead is visible too, and a few stray hairs fall upon it.

"Your sole. It's fading. On your shoes, I mean."

My eyes subconsciously drift down to where my feet stand. Tennis shoes, scuffed at the toes and worn at the base. Muted and clouded and dull; not pristine and gleaming and bleached like some others, but white nonetheless.

I would always be white.

We were all mere clones of each other; that's what life had resulted in. A single white body, repeated several thousand times over until they had enough to make a city. Height and gender being the only exceptions, we were one and the same; a unified species that couldn't even think anymore.

"Yeah, yeah it is." I finally manage to breathe back. He doesn't say anything in return, but as I turn my head, I feel his gaze on my exposed forehead, eyeing the loose curls with a small tug of the lips.

A pristine white city, save for my worn tennis shoes and his midnight black hair.