Mail Chimp

Wednesday, June 29, 2016

The I.D. of Daria Gray

After a point, Daria Gray didn't age.

Now, obviously, this means that she did age, up to a point. That point being her eighteenth birthday. Not coincidentally, that was the age at which she received her driver's license.

Her fateful driver's license.

She knew all about The Picture of Dorian Gray, of course. Her parents named her for it. How would she not know. She'd read it more than once in her youth. That didn't stop every teacher she'd ever had from telling her about it at the start of each school year. By sixth grade, it had lost all charm. By eighth grade, it was an annoyance.

She'd even considered changing her name. But by the time senior year rolled around, she had come to terms with the whole things. There were more important things on the horizon. College. Freedom. Driving.

The woman at the DMV didn't even bring it up. Either she was too polite, or, more likely, ignorant. Either way. Victory!

At age twenty-five, she looked the same. Normal, one supposes. At age thirty, hmmm, okay... She was blessed apparently. But by the time she was approaching forty, she was suspicious. It seemed far too crazy to be possible.

At age forty-two, she felt she was going insane. Now people were starting to notice. Especially the people at the DMV. She had already started going to other towns for her renewals. But that didn't really change things very much.

By age forty-six, she had come to terms with it. Okay, fine. She didn't age. Neither did her photo, for the record. But it was whateversies. Her new concern was the possibility that she was immortal. She didn't make friends, or marry, because she had already lost her parents. Who wants to go through that sort of thing forever?

She made her way to the DMV for yet another renewal. A federal driver's license, this time. Dutifully waited for her number to be called.

But there was no photo. The woman just eventually handed her a card, and said, "That'll be thirty-six dollars, please."

"But...there's no photo?"

"Nope. It's all chips now, you know. Mark of the beast and all that," the woman said with a grin.

Flustered, she had no choice but to accept it. She was pretty sure it had nothing to do with her license, anyway. Pure superstition on her part. The fact that her photo didn't age confirmed it.

On the way home, she looked in the mirror. Hanging down in the middle of her face was a single gray hair...