My reflection showed me in a well-lit room looking a little more tired than I'd like and a little older than I'd ever admit. Worn around the edges as my nan would say, smothering her pores in yet another anti-ageing cream that didn't have any effect other than giving her skin an oil-slick iridescent sheen.
My reflection showed the bathroom around me, yellow-tinged from a lightbulb that should have been changed some three or four years ago. The glass cover was always full of insects that had the uncanny tendency to look like little people from the right angle.
My reflection showed me, or at least a version of me that looked similar enough that I could believe it was me. It seemed to move a fraction quicker, like it knew what I was going to do before I'd even thought to do it. Like I was the one inside the mirror instead.
My reflection showed me in a well-lit room but I never turned the light on.
No comments:
Post a Comment