Paper Faces on Parade

“I feel alive again,” she says leaving the masquerade, “but you love a lie.”

Hands shaking, the opera singer reveals the acid scarred face under her mask.

Erik removes his own mask, and she sees no revulsion in his deformed countenance.

“We are both, phantoms.”

Copyright © by Jason H. Abbott, All Rights Reserved.

Discover more of my Aethereal Musings.

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