This story is fictional. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
She stared at her. The disfigured lady was staring back – the broken pieces are still attached to the wooden board. Luckily, the largest piece was the one that still hung right at her eye level. It’s big enough for her to do her makeup everyday. Besides, there’s no need to spend extra money just for a mirror. There’s the rent, the bills, the premium protein shakes.
She brushed a dash of bronzer on each cheek, lined flawless strokes above her youthful eyes, then finished her ritual with raspberry lip gloss. These are the features appearing on the biggest fragment still hanging on the board. Other pieces reveal distorted sizes of her breasts, waist, and thighs.
Off she went to fetch her boyfriend. It’s been months. They couldn’t wait to meet each other again.
A taxi driver caught sight of her and smiled. He reversed the wheels, letting her in. “Where to, love?”
“The airport, please,” smiling back. My diet’s been working, she thought. And when he sees me, he shall not be able to resist me.
She spotted him in the crowd. He beamed. Then he glanced at another woman. She’s in her late thirties, in a French bun, minimal makeup, and a handsome trench coat. For a moment there, she’s a sight, the center of all attention.
Her heart slipped with a thud, her shoulders fell into gravity. One day she will no longer be pretty. One day, the shattered fragments will obscure her. One day, the wood will age and cripple, and nothing between him and her will ever be as they are now.
She felt a hug from behind: “I’ve missed you so much.”
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