Kristen has a secret. She holds it in place with fine slivers of metal that clasp her hair tightly to her head, as if a wisp out of place would be it's undoing. She hides it under a gentle brush of blush across her cheek bones, as if the coral tone granted her the ability to create a new face for herself, a new body. She stuffs it up her sleeve with a freshly laundered hankerchief, knowing that every corner must be finely pressed until any flaw is smoothed away, undetectable.
At the end of each day Kristen takes off her shoes. She places them side by side, as a pair, and tucks them slightly underneath her bed so she does not trip over them in the night. Each morning she kisses her husband, inhales the scent of the body wash that she buys for him on the third Thursday of each month, and smiles. At lunch time she allows herself to eat whatever she desires, if only in small portions. That is how she keeps her sweet tooth under control.
Kristen likes long walks on the beach. No, really, she does. She spends hours sat on the large rocks that lace the shoreline staring out at the waves and trying to empty her mind. She picks up empty shells and fossils and tries to imagine the lives that they once held. She sometimes takes the stones home with her and keeps them in a vase by their front door, beside a bowl to collect keys.
She sips a white wine cooler and laughs with a friend about their husbands' shared love of tennis and when the night is over she carefully washes away her lipstick so it doesn't leave a red stain on the bedding. Kristen would do anything she could to make her husband happy, but Kristen has a secret.