Reflecting
Myths & Fragments
I almost named it. Something had come up. That’s when I froze.
I was brushing my teeth. Same sink, same crack in the mirror, same puddle. The brushing stopped without permission. Foam gathered at the corners of my mouth—evidence of my rabid nature by default.
What was it?
If it had been clear, it would’ve already been handled. I looked at the mirror. It felt like it was waiting. Not watching—more like an understudy mildly irritated that the lead had missed a cue. It was holding my shape with a professional precision that I couldn’t quite match.
The word surfaced. The mouth opened. I stopped.
I stood there longer than necessary. The mirror watched my hesitation. It didn’t look tired; it looked prepared. It was doing the work of being me while I was busy failing.
The pressure wasn’t sharp. It was just the feeling that the room was currently overstaffed.
I looked around. I was alone.
I pretended to say something. My lips moved. Quietly.
Nothing settled.
I wiped my mouth, left the bathroom light on, and walked out. It was morning. The mirror could deal with being awake.
Whatever had come up didn’t need to be finished today.
A follow up to: