Wrinkles

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The grooves between her eyebrows and the top of her forehead were telling. The emotions she only thought she could hide were plastered across her like the words on pages of a book. Every wrinkle told the story of laughter, frustration, pain, stress.

The edges of her eyes told the secret of how many times she’d forgotten her sunglasses and had to squint in the sun during a day by the ocean. You could tell by the c-shaped lines at the corner of her lips that she had often been deep in thought, often held her mouth taut.

He said to himself, looking at her across the table, “Wrinkles are beautiful. They give the world a sense of the experiences we’ve had, the life we’ve lived. Why buck against that? Why not embrace the wrinkle? Embrace the beauty of a life lived?”

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