The mirror was not one I had ever encountered before. The trim was simple, sweet, elegant in design without becoming a spectacle in and of itself - suggesting, perhaps, that whomever gazed into its aged glass was instead far more beautiful than any decoration the mirror could present. Holding glass which had stains of pale pink lipstick scrawling across the reflection, it stood stoically in the empty room. Faded dirt clung where it had fallen, tears of mud trailing down its sloped face. It stood in the center of the room - its sole occupant until my feet crossed its humble archway. Unable to resist pressing the palm of my hand to its gentle, flowing frame, I smoothed my skin against the cool metal and pressed my cheek to its flawed glass. My breath fanned against it, twin triangles appearing and disappearing with each inhale and exhale. Knobs found my fingers, holding them gently in a metallic embrace. I stared into the glass, waiting, watching.
Very rich in detail, I find this easy to imagine with all the great descriptions.
ReplyDeleteThe adjectives you used were unorthodox and allowed the descriptions to become more sophisticated.
ReplyDeleteThe single mirror standing alone in the room made it very easy to imagine with all the descriptions you give it.
ReplyDeleteI love how you nave signs of previous events: "pale pink lipstick scrawling across the reflection" and "dirt clung where it had fallen", giving a past as well as a present.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I like how you made the mirror feel alive.