Mirrored

"Does my happiness upset you?" she says with a sharp smile scratching across her face.

I continued to lock eyes with her. My own lips lay flat like the white lines on a wet road. Stagnant.

Her eyes are wide and crazed. A flicker of something unknown flits through her stare.

For she is me...but not me.

If mirrors simply produce reflections, then who the hell is that?

Not me.

Her eyes are too alive. Her upkeep, too maintained -- at least on the surface.

But if you look closely, you could see the cracks.

Unhinged.

Is that what happiness looks like?

I turn away and she does, too. Each motion, each gesture, she mocks.

Synchronized.

Ceaseless.

But that face is not mine.

"Who are you?" I whisper.

Her mouth moves along with mine.

"You know me," she says back and my mouth moves along with hers.

I slap a hand over my jaw and she giggles through my fingers.

"You know me well," we say in unison. But I am confused. Should I be frightened?

Her eyes, large and mesmerizing, pull me in once more.

She leans forward.

As do I.

Our noses inch closer and I am able to see myself within the darkness of her pupils.

"You know me well," we breathe out once more.

My lips brush the glass to fall against hers.

My lashes flutter closed.

The cold surface begins to feel warm.

A tingling sensation works its way through my skin.

I open my eyes, expecting to see her, but she is gone.

No one stares back.

Just a blank slate.

Empty.

"Who are you?"