Fiction by Alison Arthur
Her eyes are close-set, small, appearing to sink into the sides of her nose. “Hmm,” thinks Lilibeth. “Problematic”. Perhaps some foundation will make her nose appear narrower. That might relieve the piggy quality of her eyes. Good big ears, though. A definite plus. And, they don’t protrude overly. Her mouth is unremarkable.
Lilibeth has a theory about the size and placement of facial features and how this relates to the intelligence of a person. The larger the facial feature, the greater the intellectual capacity. And, of course, the reverse is also true. Perhaps her big ears and small eyes cancel each other out and the net result is average ability. Of course, close-set small eyes are a particularly bad sign. Difficult to say; perhaps a bit of a dim wit.
“Are you finished?” he calls from the adjoining room.
“Just a minute. Almost,” Lilibeth puts a few more dabs of contour powder on her cheeks and expertly blends. Good enough, she concludes. Ready. She closes the casket lid in preparation for transfer to the chapel.
Once the casket is in place, Lilibeth opens the lid to reveal her handiwork. Not her best, but adequate, she decides. The first mourners are arriving now, and she discretely slides into a seat in the back row as is her habit. She always attends the services of those she has prepared. She likes to listen to the eulogy to see if it validates her conclusions. Her version of field work.
Alison Arthur is a a retired Counselling Therapist living in rural Nova Scotia. She is new to flash fiction and is excited about this new adventure in her life.
