The ageing beauty glares at the mirror. She opens a drawer. Removes the gun left behind by her man.
The mirror chuckles. “Guess he’s cooking with fresher meat.”
She points the gun.
The mirror jeers, “Age has tiered your peers into faraway condos where the living’s assisted, or nursing homes where the living’s resisted. Until Death spears all you old worms into caskets or urns.”
Shards of glass splinter from the aging beauty trapped in the mirror.
The beauty studies the shattered corpse. She shivers, smiles, then lets her memory-eyes surrender to the ghosts of her glorious, glorious youth.
Author bio: Marie Anderson is a Chicago area writer. She's had 40 stories appear in various publications, including LampLight, Gathering Storm, Woman's World, Brain Child, St. Anthony Messenger, and most recently, Every Day Fiction. In her daily life, she strives for tidiness, timeliness, and simplicity.
Reflection is part of 101 Fiction issue 21.