"We Stopped Checking For Monsters Under Our Bed When We Realized They Were Inside Us."

“The meaning of life,” I smirked to myself, squirming in my uncomfortable business chair. The dart in my hand slipped through my fingers a bit every so often before I aimed to strike the board. “Must be a trick question,” the laugh I released was hesitant. As if the joke wasn’t funny.
As if I shouldn’t have been laughing.
The door begins to open. When ajar, I peered through the outside. People swarm like bees searching for their honey. I stumble from my seat, buckled my belt, and formed a somewhat natural smile across my cheeks. A small reflection met my eyes, only for me to realize it was just a large slab of metal wedged into the walls.
Large hazel eyes with golden orbs, violet specks. Small nose, thin lips. Porcelain skin.
Beauty, my colleagues called it.
“A fucking curse,” I grumbled.
The newbie of the store walked in, his newly hired attitude surfacing the room. I’m not a sadist, but I’m definitely not a damn optimist. Optimists annoy the hell out of me, especially that wide smile they give every prick in the building. Before I know it, I’m looking straight at that grin, completely disgusted.
“Sir?” he says, and I realize I’d been staring for more than a couple seconds.
“Aw sugar, we’re both beautiful, we both stare,” I grinned slightly, just enough to appear friendly. I look like a serial killer who went all Cheshire Cat if I smile all the whole fucking Way. Hah. Pun.
“You think I’m beautiful?”
My attention whirled back to his words. “Yeah, kiddo. Attractive.”
His cheeks blush, I love it when they do that. “Um, thanks.”
“What’re you so proud of?” I mocked. “Beauty is a fucking curse.”
He shrugged, his golden nametag adjusting itself, the name Frank written on it. Brown eyes tiredly eyed mine. “What’s so bad about it?”
“It keeps us from seeing where the monsters hide.”

Notes