The silver strands of her hair ripples like fractal waves in the glass reflection. She is light, airy, mesmerizing. You search for any sign of her face, but you find nothing.
It’s as though she doesn’t want to be seen. Or perhaps…she doesn’t know how to be. Her form is clear to you though. Pale, translucent skin. Long, elegant fingers. The cascading hair that draws you in.
Her lavender dress shimmers even in the obstructing darkness. You yearn to see the windows into her soul, to feel her presence is truly there.
And yet, you know deep within yourself that this is impossible. What she feels, what she thinks, and what she wants is just out of reach. For you, and for her.
You realize that your cheeks are wet. There is no more denying it. Wiping the falling tears, you are finally able to accept the truth.
She is no one. A shell, a projection. She does not—cannot—exist, no matter how much you may want her to. As you reach out towards her, she turns her back on you.
She knows who you really are.
Staring at the mirror’s image, you now know that you were the one who abandoned her.
4 Comments
Sorry this took me so long; it was buried under a mountain of research papers screaming out to me to be graded.
🙂
I have an observation (possibly two) and a memory.
Mirrors are very unusual creatures. Giving you anything from, “You look like a monster” to “Wow, you look pretty good,” so it’s not just a physics-based reflection (well, it is, but your brain does not interpret it that way… ah, brains!). You have used them more than once.
When I was little, and my dad was getting a new suit at Broadway in Westchester, I went into the changing room with the three angled mirrors where he could check out front/back-sides, and there it was: me seeing me, looking at me, looking at me, receding (smaller and smaller) but multiplied at every recession, and I realized what infinity/infinite regression were.
I mean, nobody I’ve ever known actually infinity beyond it being a concept, but well… there it was.
🙂
Very interesting, cool use of the rarely seen second-person. Interesting that you see her but she has no face.