George reaches up and pulls himself up again. Amazing what energy can be found in those “cringing moments.” His left toe catches the ledge as he brings it up and his right arm swings itself forward on its own volition to counterbalance his imminent demise.
Sarah had a mole that could be mistaken for a cold-sore. She tried to apply her makeup to under accentuate its redness. Lingering just above her lip and southwest of her right nostril, it could have become her trademark. Entering her 40s she should have accepted the “opinions and rumor mill be damned” attitude that is a right of passage most other older women enjoy. Instead, her collaboration with her flamboyant beautician produced a pair of eyebrows – reminiscent of the golden arches – relegating her mole to a sideshow in the vaudeville that was her presence.