I stand in front of my mirror, examining my body, checking for new lines, blemishes, wrinkles, those things that come with a maturing body. I hold up my hair to get an unfettered view of my back and realise for the first time that no matter how I twist and turn, I cannot see the nape of my neck. I wonder what it looks like, if it is covered with moles and blemishes like the rest of my back.

I give up and turn to face the mirror again, still holding up my hair. My husband comes into the room. I watch him watching my reflection as he walks towards me. When he is right behind me, he bends, kisses the back of my neck.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

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