Word Count: 237
I don’t think she understood the lie of mirrors. That what she thought she saw in perfect clarity was in reverse. A benign half-smile to her was seen as smirking by the global eye. A wink she thought was reassurance meant something else.
Each day she would apply her makeup, comb her hair, adjust her collar. Thinking that the wing of golden hair hid her left eye. Once out the door she never thought again about her image. Reassured herself that she was honest to the truth.
Little things piled up and tripped her notice. She found herself explaining explanations of her words. While “let it be” became the program, she only tried the harder to explain.
When it came there was no lightning, just the sudden angry thunder in the air. It took her unaware and yet she wondered, sought for answers, looked through drawers and closets for a clue.
She stared into her mirror now for hours. Searching for some light trick she had missed. But even though she spotted every freckle, every mole, it seemed to her that they had always been there.
It came to her to wound the part of her that had offended. To cut out that which she herself had never found. The mirror image smiled to hide the smirk she didn’t see. In genuine surprise–but for an instant–she realized she’d plunged the knife into her heart.
