She moved in straight lines, always smiling, a mechanical swan wrapped in blue cotton. In the mornings before work, she tied up her hair in a mirror. It was soft and always falling. She held bobby pins in her mouth, and then applied each one like a sentence she would never say. Her hair was dark red, as though perpetually ashamed.
It was an effort for her to talk, and so like many shy people, Rebecca found a face in the mirror and a voice that went with it. She used them like tools, to make sure it was tea that was desired and not coffee—or whether monsieur or madame might like another pillow. The real Rebecca lay beneath, smuggled on-board each flight inside her uniform, waiting for the moment to reveal herself.
But such a moment never happened, and her true self, by virtue of neglect, turned from the world and slipped away without anyone noticing.
— Simon Van Booy,
Everything Beautiful Began After