Her thin, gray hair is usually rolled into a ball over her head. The silver strands form a shiny texture which changes in different lights, resembling a large, iridescent pearl. Eloise always keeps her hair neat, with no strays or loose clumps. Vacant, pale blue eyes, once vibrant and full of curiosity, hide behind thick glass frames. Without these glasses, she is forced to squint and strain her vision. Time has branded her pink cheeks with deep wrinkles that almost entirely disappear when she smiles.
She dresses to fit almost any occasion. She has a collection of handmade dresses that are all similar in design, but differ in color. They have loosely fitted tops with long sleeves reaching out to her wrists. The waists of the dresses come in tightly, revealing her petite and frail stature. Hanging below her belt are long skirts that hover just above the ground.
Upon the death of her husband, Eloise's only son, John, decided to put her in a nursing home where "she would be cared for properly." Eloise knows this isn't the main reason. She knows how much John's wife dislikes her; wishing not to be a nuisance, she agreed. John chose the most expensive place in the immediate area, and within a week's time she was settled in to her new home.
There is a constant aroma of menthol clinging to the air of the apartment. The vapor emanates from the Ben-Gay Eloise is forced to use. She must apply the transparent, brown slime, every few hours. Rubbing the lotion in creates an immediate burning sensation which is concentrated deep below her spotted skin. Her hands cease to tremble as the stiff vice of arthritis calms under the warm glow. At first the fumes nauseated her, and she opened all the windows to dilute it; with time her senses have learned to ignore the stench. Without this gift from the gods, Eloise would be unable to perform the most basic of chores. Her hands would permanently cast in a tense, clenched position.
