A Room. A Girl. A Mirror.
It was a dark room, but she was bright
There was only nothing in this room. As if closing my eyes made no diference. The darknes was as dark. She was not.
I could see her eyes. I could see her hair. I could see the smile that formed on her face when she saw me. I smiled back.
All her radiance felt warm. Soothing, bright fires lit up this cobweb infested, vast space as she smiled. It wasn’t long before the radiant flame was in smoldering vain.
I craved her warmth. I walked towards it. I never reached it. I took a step forward. She took three steps back. She was warm. I was not.
The smoldering fires were less every passing day. Her radiance dimmed with every step I took. I was cold. She felt it too. I was to blame, I was sure.
The light went out. An eery wave swept through my space as though it were a gentle breeze. Guilt, dismay, remorse, mourning, more guilt. She sobbed. I sobbed.
That day, I wished. I wishes for her smile to return. For her radiance to force out the cold around her. I thought I would smile too.
I wished to grant my wish on my own. This was my doing, I thought. And so I built the mirror.
The mirror crossed the room. I could no longer see her. She could no longer see me. She would never have to be cold again. I felt relief. I was uneasy.
Brightness appeared in the room. Candles brightened the blue painted walls. Pastels filled the portraits. Tables helt sultan worthy feasts. Windows presented kings’ ocean views.
A light without her and a mirror. I saw my redlection, but it was not as I wanted. I was not bright.
The room was bright. I was dark.
Does this mirror have two sides?
Is she as dark as I?
Did she ever see the same?
Did she think I was cold?
Is she more well?
Does she miss me as I miss her?
Was this mirror mine to build?
Will it break with a stone?
Would she want to see me of it broke?
Would she prefer not to see me?
Would there be someone new beside her?
Would I have to buld a mirror again?
I regret the day I built this mirror. I regret the day I saw the light for the first time.
I regret the cold that I emit.
