Dark lips glistened against the moonlit strewn dressing room.
Far in the distance she could hear the final chords of the opera she once loved echo through the grounds.
Rising gracefully from her chair she slipped into the deep olive colored gown layed out for her.
Turning towards the mirror she gazed at her appearance.
On the outside she was the very definition of beauty, but on the inside she was as cold and dead as a corpse.
The fire and passion she once possessed had left her long ago, all that remained was the shell of a woman who once was.
Lighting blue eyes stared blankly back at her, as she scanned for imperfections that were not there.
Turning her back on the mirror she parted the tent and strode into the circus before her, ready to be servant once more.
The face. The body. The voice of GeneCO.
