A little girl stands infront of a mirror wearing adult clothings. Their baggy depths threaten to swallow her. She stares at the mirror sad and forelorn. Her finger traces down the curves of her face. With a quick jerk she pulls and the wooden mask falls to the ground. The pony tails curved and twised benith it's bulk. The hallow eyes stare up at her, showing no promise, no security. The mouth is a smile with a spot of tomato sauce in the corner. The faceless girl, now a woman, looks up from the mask to the walls which are coated with faces. She looks over them and selects the one she wants. Confident, caring, smart and savy, wise, trustworthy and calm. She puts it on and smiles ear to ear, but once she takes away her bracing hands, in seconds the mask peels away, rejecting her. It flies from her, replacing it self on the wall. All the eyes on the wall stare at her and she turns back the mask on the floor. It is the only one that fits.
She picks it up, defeated and places it back on her face. She turns to leave the room, reatching for the knob on the exit door. It's to high and ever on her tip toes she can only touch it, brush it with her fingers.
She wavers on her toes, trying again for the knob, but falls to the ground. It takes a second or two before the tears break and she wails in frustration. Trapped in the room with nothing but her cries.