Reflections Of Her

Crossing her arms, she watched as he strode away, leaning his head forward, as if trying to make headway against an unseen force.

She stood firm and solid. The air around her still - so still she took a deep breath to make sure it still existed. Why had he done it? Saying goodbye like this. Acting as if it were a natural thing to do, like it was something that happens every day, as if it was . . . nothing.

He stopped. Removing his hat, he wiped his brow, apparently overworked by the effort to make it to the corner merely a half a block away from where she stared. She’d been the one blindsided, yet he was the one showing the emotion; struggling it seemed, to accept what had just occurred.

He turned then with a look of second thought, the one when regret stops gnawing around the edges of your decision and finally takes a bite out of it.

By this time, her emotions had formed a barrier, trying to protect themselves from further abuse. It manifested on her face, her mouth still slightly agape, eyes narrowed, affecting a look that stops him in his tracks. Keeping her arms tightly to her, she refuses to offer redemption.

Expecting one thing, he sees another, realizing that he’s burnt a bridge he never meant to cross. The memory of one bad decision after another flash across this mind, but he knows this is the right one. He retreats and continues on his way.

This isn’t the first time someone’s left her. But it is the first time she didn’t feel like dying when they did. She turns to look into the shop window. Several images assail her all at once. Different views reflect her image in varying angles. Some full on, others displaying only a glimpse of the right or left side of her face. She wonders which one represents her best.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees it. Her image sliced in two, one side askew while the other stares back at her with perfect clarity.

Even though the sides cannot be reconciled, they are still part of each other. It’s only which side we choose to accept as our own that determines the perception we have of ourselves, and what we reveal to the world.

She walks into the crowd moving along the sidewalk, merging into their world, keeping close to the windows. She glances from time to time at her reflection, keeping track of her image as it changes. She’s still unsure which reality is hers, but she knows it’s always there, waiting.

© J.C. Montgomery 2009

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Inspired by EasyStreet Prompt #604: She said, no more.