I work at a cosmetic store at the airport terminal. I cater to the high flying ladies, helping them to buy the stuff to look more beautiful. I recommend the shades of nail colour, lip stick and other materials to enhance the beauty. We stock international designer brands for the elite class of the society. Our prices are double the usual to compensate for the steep rent at the terminal. People in a rush to catch their connecting flights hardly look at the prices and actually smile pleasantly while paying our bills. We also are happy to deal with such non fussy customers.
She looked lost and lonely in the huge terminal, her blue eyes were beautiful and expressive. You could never forget them. Her face was a milky smooth runway where our gazes would just glide away. The lips were juicy red, of course without any added colour. She came to our shop and started to look around. She soon filled her hamper with a host of cosmetic products making us all glad. She flushed out dollar bills and walked off. One thing amazed me, that she did not buy any nail polish. I rushed behind her to offer her complementary nail polish bottles to her but she flatly refused saying she had no use for them. I came back to the shop,disheartened.
I saw her heading towards the changing room.
She came out a different person. I could have missed her, but for her eyes. She was clad in a black burkha from head to toe and all you could see were her blue eyes.
Seeing me, she told her sad story, Her fingers were once slender, shining with gloss and polish. She used to teach in a girls' school in her native country.
The wicked rulers, who were vehemently against female education raided her school and chopped her fingers.
She, now was fighting a lone battle with the oppressive rulers with the help of international aid agencies.
I bade her good bye as she boarded the flight to her dreaded war torn destination.
A few months later, I read about her untimely demise in the papers.
Her cold blue eyes still haunt me.
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