One arm around her waist, then on the small of her back; her hand in his. She sighed, and somehow, just then, a cold spark grounded itself within the pit of her stomach. His eyes on her. Some days, she thought they would never leave. But they did.

She glanced at her reflection in the custom-made mirror. Staring back at her was a petite frame wrapped in a lilac robe, a body she hardly recognized anymore. Some days, he had called her beautiful.

Sighing, her eyes shifted to her face. A smooth layer of mascara was painted onto her long eyelashes, silver eyeshadow applied on her eyelids. Her high, visible cheekbones were dotted with rouge, her jawline still sharp after all the years. Some days, he had grazed his finger along her jaw, his deep voice driving away the threatening coldness around her. Exhaling, she focused on her lips. They were red with wrinkles settled all around them. She knew all too well that they opened far too often and made trouble. Usually they were pulled into a subtle smile; not today, though.

Some days, he would pull her in close and press his lips against hers. Her fingers moved up to brush through the soft ringlets of blonde which fell down gently to her collarbones. Sighing, she finally inspected what she feared to make eye contact with: the blanket of wrinkles which had settled themselves into her soft skin. Some days, he had even cupped her face between his hands and looked her straight in the eye, finally warming her progressively colder system.

He was tall. That is what she’d noticed at first. But what she later remembered, were his eyes. They followed her around, a youthful fountain of blue. All she wanted was a sip. He was younger than her, only by a couple of years though. She sighed once again and shifted in her seat. Slowly, she lifted her hands to her eyes and pulled away her fake eyelashes. He had been young. But as he grew older, he, too, required to feed off of something more youthful to get rid of the cold inside of him.

She was long-legged. That is what she’d noticed at first. Her skin was smooth, jaw sharp. That’s what she remembered. She was charming, but hardly elegant. She was petite with messy blonde hair and worked as an assistant at his office.

It was almost considered a norm that the women cheated on remained with their men nowadays. She, too, like the rest of them, had stayed. Only difference was that she took the house while he proceeded to move out. He left her with eight hundred lonely square meters for herself. Plus a pool.
    
After only two weeks he was back on her doorstep begging for a second chance. She hadn’t let him in. He left, she cried.

Now it was only her big blue confused cerulean eyes gazing into a mirror empty of anything youthful.

Laughter erupted in the spacious, white room with expensive gold decor.

It came from the bottom of her stomach, a warm light spreading through the cold of her body.