I dab tiny dots of concealer under my eyes. Looking at them in the mirror, I can't recall a time when I didn't do it. I sit i before my vanity mirror, tilting my head to get the light just right as I soften my features with makeup. I'm immediately satisfied with the way the dark circles from my sleepless nights seem to disappear with each delicate tap of the concealer, blending seamlessly into my skin. It’s a quiet, meticulous work, like an artist's, and I use my clean ring finger to gently lift the corners of my eyes where I suspect-
“Stop obsessing. There’s nothing there, Vee.” I hear Matt's voice behind me, his reflection in the mirror, like he’s reading my mind. It doesn’t take a lot—I'm an open book in a foreign language that he happens to be an expert on. “You’re perfect.”
