Monica

In the echo of a bathroom, Monica sits, cloaked in sorrow. Her once vibrant locks now lay scattered on the floor, a testament to her despair. With a cigarette as her solitary companion, she contemplates the betrayal that has left her heart as barren as the cold tiles beneath her feet. The mirror, a witness to her anguish, reflects the pain of a love lost to vanity. She is a portrait of heartache, ensconced in a room of floral wallpaper, where the scent of smoke mingles with the floral air.