The Mirror.


She got up again and looked in the mirror. For a second time that day she saw a reflection that she did not recognize. How long had this been going on, for how long had the mirror been reflecting this strange image? She knew what face should be looking back at her and this was not it. What she saw was dark, weak and lost; surely it couldn’t be her own likeness. It must be a smudge or a shadow from the window; it must be anything other than her actual reflection. Turning away from it she closed her eyes trying to make the image that seemed to be burned into her memory disappear, hoping that the next time she looked the mirror would show more promise, more hope. That the next time she would see what her Maker saw, what her Maker intended to be in her reflection.

Walking out of the room she heaved a deep sigh, wondering what was wrong with her. 


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