“I don’t want to be just any woman,” he confesses while caking on foundation. “I want to be a goddess.”
He gives himself smoky eyes, paints his lips candy-apple red, and applies lashes as large as seashells.
“Like Juno, Aphrodite,” he continues, “…or Bette Davis.” His wink sparkles like sapphires.
After dotting a beauty mark, he adds the final touch: a dazzling auburn wig.
He hesitates, his smile fading, as he looks at the photograph of his mother. “Someone like you,” he whispers sadly.
“Please welcome, Miss Chandelier!” The announcer exclaims.
He grins coquettishly. “Showtime,” he says, and struts on stage.