Prose.

She wore stage jewellery and around her neck, with a faded faux kashmere shawl covering her shoulders. 

She pulled the shawl tight against her chest, bringing her shoulders, both too large and too frail, into stark relief, giving her a sense of vulnerability that she refused to show on her face.

I looked at her as she walked by, a woman who drew strength from the facade she showed to the world, and all the more beautiful for it, but she never saw me stare, or never acknowledged it.

Probably the latter, knowing her.

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