Little Moments: 100 Themes
#2: Masks
Lillie Bell

Disclaimer: I don't own Sailor Moon.

To say I'm proud of this one is an understatement. I'm still am patting myself on the back!

The wind swept through ebony strings of hair, caressing them gently, as cobalt eyes took in the quiet city before him. The streets were filled with the few people who lethargically made their way about at such an early hour on the weekend. The man thought about his wife, curled in the comfort and warmth of their bed, and a smile drifted across his features. Usagi never was one to be up early, though it was only an hour after dawn.

Turning from the railing, he slid through the open glass door. The curtain swung into his face as the wind died and momentarily he fought against the linen. His feet stretched across the threshold as he tried to sidestep the billowing nuisance. His fight was suddenly thrust to the back of his mind as he shuffled his foot near the doorframe and heard a loud ripping sound. Luckily, the wind caught on to his troubles and the curtain was instantly lifted back into its arms and away from her prince.

For an instant, Mamoru glared angrily at the now contently dancing curtain before he made his way farther into the apartment to survey the damage. He looked at his immaculate pants, thinking the protruding screws of the doorframe tore the hem. Seeing no holes or fraying edges, Mamoru began to inspect the ground before finally turning to scrutinize the offensive screw.

A pained sound crawled up his throat and out his mouth before he could stop it. He stared, eyes close to tears, at the screw boastfully parading its prize. His skin went a sickening white and were anyone around they would have thought the man about to faint. He entertained such an idea for a moment, even felt his eyes begin to roll into his head before clenching his teeth and shaking himself. With deep breaths to calm his shattering heart, he closed his eyes and collected himself.

Life could not be so cruel.

But, oh, it could. For as he opened his eyes, the crystal pools took in the sight of the screw's treasure. The screw had managed to catch the corner of the mask and tear it from his fuzzy slippers A small felt mask that at one time (not too long ago) had been attached to the man's lavender slippers now waved teasingly from its perch.. He peered dumbly down at his feet, taking in the right masked slipper. With rising horror, the man was hit by a frightening epiphany:

I can't be Tuxedo Kamen without my mask.