She had made a poor job of hiding the damage. She thought her bright smile covered it all. And it was a dazzling smile, she had always been told so. One that could light up a room, or so the saying went. But the bulbs that used to illuminate it had dimmed and a few had even cracked. But she went on with the smile anyways. What she didn't try to cover with her smile eked out of every pore of her. She kept up with her signature rose perfume and lotion, but let other things slip aside so that she didn't smell of a rose bush, but of the dirt beneath it with the fallen, crumbling petals of the roses. The lotion wasn't spread as carefully and meticulously as it was in the past. Instead it was put on a few places, which she figured were the only real places that needed attention. While this meant soft hands and elbows, it created a stark contrast if anyone ever felt beyond her palm. It was as though she was put together in pieces. In a way, she was. Her voice had never been a thin...