Twice recently friends have commented on "the face" I've made.
I think I know "the face". It was my mother's and now it's mine.
I forget how old I have become and have no-one to remind me. No children to say "Oh Mum!" No workplace with younger, sleeker colleagues. Only a mirror that I barely glance at as I hurry past, heading for the garden in comfortable jeans.
She is still inside. The young girl in the party frock.
When did she pick up the mask with "the face"?