by Jae Loren
propped up on one of the dark walls, framed alight by the single bright lamp beside it. Her boots scraped against the tile as she moved towards it, each step revealing another inch of her reflection.
Vjola tapped his fingers together, “Well, what do you think? Be honest- I thrive on criticism even when it is misguided.”
Think? She stared at the blue-eyed, golden haired stranger that looked back at her. Her perusal ran from top to bottom, starting at the large glossy-wet eyes, smooth pale skin that held pink undertones, small nose and rose-plump lips; a long slender neck and soft shoulders. Trim arms- not tiny or brittle-, a modest, if not generously proportioned bosom; a waist was curved inward just beneath the knotted shirttails, following the invisible flowing line only to flare out into well-rounded hips, sleek thighs and shapely legs, whose feet were encased in battered leather ended her perusal.
She met those marble-blue eyes in the mirror, reaching forward to press slender fingers against the cool surface, as though she could press through it, past the imposter reflected back, and trip into the memory of how she looked before. Her brain didn’t recognize the stranger, but neither could it explain the image that was betrayed. Long blonde strands slipped over her shoulder, barely restrained but a length of shiny black ribbon tied on her head from nape to crown.
Her skin began to itch under the surface. What was it? Frustration? Anxiety, anger? The emotions tangled up together in the near indiscernible wobble of her new voice.
“What am I?” She questioned out loud.
Vjola was visible in the background and he shrugged with an odd smile, “Perfection.”