The Mirror

There is a girl, carrying a mirror down to her basement. She isn’t going to look at it, she hardly ever does; she never likes what she sees in it anyway. Its enormously heavy, the gilded, full length, reflective behemoth. Its glass pieces are scratched, cracked,held together by duct tape and glue, barely holding together.

The girl doesn’t know why she’s keeping it,why she lets it stay and haunt her.

On the way down the steps creak and sway, there’s a dripping sound and her heart stutters with fear. She hates the basement, she comes down too often but the mirror keeps appearing in unwanted places.She always has to bring it back down to where it belongs.

The basement is dark, cluttered with all kinds of rejected, broken and unwanted materials. She sets the mirror down, hatefully glaring at it, wishing for the release brought by tears. But there are no tears in the basement, there never are.

She looks back up the stairs and realizes what a long way back up she has. It will take a long time to get out again.

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