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Night Kohl

          She stopped using black. It smudged, smeared and left botches that didn’t go away very easily. Some wouldn’t; they just stayed, stains on paper. She thought that replacing them with lighter shades – grey, brown, deep teal – for her lower eye lid would fix things. It would stop the heavy smudging. If it smudges, it wouldn’t be a black eye. One less bruise to cover. The heat would make it worse. The smudging would be worse. She looked punk. Punk like Kurt Cobain. "He's not punk" – his voice is cold. She froze. She isn’t impressing him, that’s for sure. She looks at him hard but does not really see him; he is a blur of whiteness. His skin is so fair, his hair is so soft. He plays the guitar. He doesn’t like her. So she goes to the one with curly hair like hers. The one who like Kurt Cobain just to impress her. She wears kohl to be beautiful for him. Black kohl.                 She doesn’t know if the other colors are called kohl as well. Maybe eyeliner. Ko