rouge

I scooped up a pét-nat rouge, a rosé and a red blend on my way out of town at Yakima’s Apple Valley Emporium, a combination skateboard and bottle shop.

They gather flowers and spread them at the door; Butterfly rouges her cheeks and puts on the wedding garments she wore the night she and the lieutenant fell in love.

Instead of wearing lipstick or rouge, I darken my eyebrows.

A 9-year-old girl in heavy rouge and a red two-piece leotard does a standing split outside, tugging her knee above her head.

Powder puffs, brushes, and pots of rouge sat like macaroons on a candy tray.