Mirrors

Because I was running out of inspiration and was tired of people not reading my tumblr. Hence, the copy and paste from it. Pfft. 

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“Have you ever wondered,” He asks, picking up the fragile piece of glass, looking at it sparkle in the middle of his palm like a tiny crystal, “What things would be like if our look, our life, our allocated role in this world, was based entirely on our personality?”

“Doesn’t that already happen, to some extent?” She questions and lightly touches one of the many mirrors that surround them, reflecting weird, broken up images of the two. 

He chuckles (though there is something dark about this laugh of his) and mutters something she doesn’t understand - but his tone suggests he is mocking her - and strides towards the largest mirror in the room, that little piece of glass still glittering on his open palm. 

“Not really,” He answers and his breath fogs up the glass of the mirror he is standing so close to, “That’s why we have mirrors, don’t we? We don’t like to look deep, to discover what horrible things dwell inside us. We like to take things at face value. We like to look at ourselves in the mirror and claim we’re good people, just because we haven’t done, say, absolutely terrible and horrendous things like murder. We like to leave it at that, at the things that float on top, the things we can easily see. We don’t need to look any further because it’s not like anyone else can see that far down either….But if our personalities were right on top, right in front of us and everyone else, part of our skin and part of our life and destiny…Would that not make things clearer?”

He turns to look at her with those piercing eyes of his and she finds that she cannot move. She cannot speak. 

He smirks, “It’s your choice, I guess.” And he tosses the piece of glass to her and she somehow manages to catch it before it falls.

“Your choice, your choice,” He taunts her and then strolls out of the room, leaving her stunned and wondering, just wondering about it all.