Mirror

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“My relationship with Jeanine wasn’t as smooth as it might have looked like to some people. We fought every day, almost every moment we were together. Somehow she would always find a reason to get annoyed at me and I’d always snap back at her.

 

“She had the temper of a butterfly. One moment, she’d be sitting on the top of a knife as if it were a bench, the other she’d stumble upon the grass before making her way to run over your corpse.

 

“That was so typically Jeanine.

 

“I remember that one time I forgot bringing her anything from a business trip, and when I returned home, she burst into tears – all for the sake of a tiny bottle of expensive perfume she could have boasted about to her friends later!

 

“I sometimes wondered if she really was the girl I had fallen in love with, now that she was a woman.

 

“I mean, it is not like we had never been assholes to each other – our relationship’s very existence was a battle of our ideas. We had bickered like the tides and the shore and embraced like the earth and the rain.

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“Somehow, it had always made sense.

 

“I could be awful to her, so could she be to me. It was a promise we had made to each other that we would have fancied the other one to comply with.

 

“That was until last week.

 

“Jeanine broke my heart.

 

“She cheated on me.

 

“She cheated on me with death.

 

“How could I not be hurt beyond repair by this treachery?

 

“But then who was I to blame my dead wife?

 

“I had been an appalling husband to Jeanine, but I’m sure that’s the same for her part as well.

 

“Somehow, we had found peace in our awfulness. Somehow, it all made sense.

 

“Somehow, we didn’t quite mind being each other’s mirrors. Now that she’s gone, I have quite forgotten what I look like.”

 

A few sniffing sounds were made, my parents clapped with tears in their eyes and Jeanine’s just glared at the ground.

 

As the funeral ended, I looked quietly at the people dressed in black going back to their homes.

 

Leaning down, I pressed my lips to hers.

 

A woman in a framed photograph smiled back.

 

A photograph of a dead person – a long dead heart and eyes that won’t move ever again – my mirror wasn’t quite the same anymore.

 


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  • Pratapchowdary Bollina

    Mirror never lie! Do you understand what i mean?