All the kisses blown into the air have vanished. Eyeliners removed, lipsticks wiped off.
Dresses have been tossed into laundry bags and perfumes have evaporated off skins. Now is the time when the mirror sees us-our eyes not lined with kohl, lipstick staining only the corners the tissue missed.
This is the time when the woman slowly disappears into the mirror and the night watches on with passive disinterest.
In some building faraway building, a light turns on. And all we see is a mother waking up to apparent wails of her child.
The window stops the wail from entering the world's eardrums.