Outside In
Breathing an anticipatory sigh, Erika opened the car door and swung her legs on to the house-paralleling driveway, penetrating the autumn maelstrom of whipping wind and whirling, multi-colored leaves.
I still don't know how I agreed to this, she thought, or even why she invited me, of all people. The rumors concerning her insincerity swirled in her head as much as the dry twigs did outside of it.
Why invite me for lunch? she wondered. Did she consider me her friend? If she did, I'm sure I'm her only one.
Passing the window to her living room, she noticed a wall-hung mirror, in seemingly perfect alignment with it, and the reflection of her not-so-perfectly-aligned hair. Indeed, the wind had restyled in into a wicked frenzy.
"Well, so good of you to come by," trumpeted the woman through her tight mouth piece of an instrument, the wrinkles in her cheeks as sharp as knives and her body so flabless that it appeared as if worms had internally devoured every one of her fat cells.
Eyeing the woman and the checkered tablecloth in her kitchen, she froze, as if injected with a blast of arctic air. A single dish, cup, saucer, fork, and knife drained in the sink from what must have been used for her breakfast and gave Erika the impression that they had been the only ones that had ever been used.
"Lunch'll be ready in about 15 minutes," the woman said. "I thought we'd have tea or something in the living room."
Agreeing, Erika waded her way through the thick air that was only severed by the sound waves emitted by the ticking grandfather clock.
"Yes," Erika said at length. "Besides, I noticed the mirror in your living room as I got out of the car and got a glimpse of what this fall day's done to my hair. It's a total mess! I'd like to fix it up a bit."
As she approached it, the woman warned, "That one won't do you much good."
Approaching it, she released a nervous laugh. "Why, whatever do you mean?" But when she only saw the window's reflection in it, she spewed the cracked glass of her now-shattered nerves.
Squinting and shaking her head, she failed to see her image. Running her hands over what must have been her cherry-flushed cheeks, she closed her eyes. But her image still failed to appear when she had reopened them.
"That mirror doesn't reflect the truth," the woman explained.
Disoriented, Erika masked her question with another jittery jolt of laughter. "What-what exactly do you mean?"
"Like most people, it only allows you to see from the outside in."
I still don't know how I agreed to this, she thought, or even why she invited me, of all people. The rumors concerning her insincerity swirled in her head as much as the dry twigs did outside of it.
Why invite me for lunch? she wondered. Did she consider me her friend? If she did, I'm sure I'm her only one.
Passing the window to her living room, she noticed a wall-hung mirror, in seemingly perfect alignment with it, and the reflection of her not-so-perfectly-aligned hair. Indeed, the wind had restyled in into a wicked frenzy.
"Well, so good of you to come by," trumpeted the woman through her tight mouth piece of an instrument, the wrinkles in her cheeks as sharp as knives and her body so flabless that it appeared as if worms had internally devoured every one of her fat cells.
Eyeing the woman and the checkered tablecloth in her kitchen, she froze, as if injected with a blast of arctic air. A single dish, cup, saucer, fork, and knife drained in the sink from what must have been used for her breakfast and gave Erika the impression that they had been the only ones that had ever been used.
"Lunch'll be ready in about 15 minutes," the woman said. "I thought we'd have tea or something in the living room."
Agreeing, Erika waded her way through the thick air that was only severed by the sound waves emitted by the ticking grandfather clock.
"Yes," Erika said at length. "Besides, I noticed the mirror in your living room as I got out of the car and got a glimpse of what this fall day's done to my hair. It's a total mess! I'd like to fix it up a bit."
As she approached it, the woman warned, "That one won't do you much good."
Approaching it, she released a nervous laugh. "Why, whatever do you mean?" But when she only saw the window's reflection in it, she spewed the cracked glass of her now-shattered nerves.
Squinting and shaking her head, she failed to see her image. Running her hands over what must have been her cherry-flushed cheeks, she closed her eyes. But her image still failed to appear when she had reopened them.
"That mirror doesn't reflect the truth," the woman explained.
Disoriented, Erika masked her question with another jittery jolt of laughter. "What-what exactly do you mean?"
"Like most people, it only allows you to see from the outside in."
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