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The change had initially been very gradual, almost unnoticeable. The first thing she noticed was an increasing number of compliments.

“Why, you’re looking positively radiant today!”

She would blush, smile, say thank you, and go on with her day.

Others noticed. The compliments increased, day by day, until she became so used to them that she would no longer blush and smile, and her “Thank you” became less surprised and more like “I know.” She got invited to a lot of parties, and revelled in her popularity. She became the sort of woman of whom you would say “The room brightens up when she walks in.” She became a true social butterfly, with a diary full of invitations, events and parties. She would stand there in the centre of the room, flirting with five different men at once, and none of them minded.

Then, people started to look at her strangely. Gradually, they realised that they were no longer metaphors – the room really did brighten up when she walked in, and she really was, literally, radiant. That was odd, and nobody wants an oddity at their party. The invitations dried up. Men no longer flocked around her. People stared at her in the street.

She got brighter still. Her hair and her skin- just above the neckline, no lower- seemed to become thinner and more translucent. Softer, too, as if they were gradually disappearing. Now people turned away from her in the street, shielding their eyes.

Within a year, she could put her hand straight through the space that had once been her head, causing a delicate flickering of the light that shone there and nothing more.

© Kari Fay