Every morning I put on a mask, a smile plastered on like paint on glass. It obscures the cold truth, allowing me to stay aloof. But this paint can’t be washed off cleanly, a thin layer of colour would still cling on stubbornly. Layer by layer the coating grows, as the thickening shows. My heart feels the ache, for fear one day this coating would become opaque. I would struggle to remove the taint, fingernails scraping fruitlessly at the rock hard paint. But still I would have a radiant smile, a radiant smile that would last for quite a while.