“I see colors,” she traced her fingertips along the glass. “And a lantern. It’s so bright I could walk the street at midnight. Bright, bright, midnight, bright…”
“The cobblestone streets, shop windows dark, dark, so dark for the night.” She swayed to the sound of her own voice. “Dark for the night, the lantern so bright, a walk at midnight…”
She froze, turning to her son.
“Look,” he flung his hand. “It’s no window. It’s a mirror. Shit,” he muttered. “A mirror.”
She turned back, seeing herself clearly in the full-length mirror. “So it is…”
“Yeah. So it is.”
She stared at his reflection, tilting her head slightly. “You don’t seem particularly concerned.”
He rubbed the side of his cheek.
“Give mummy a hug now.”
He stood up, wavered, and walked to the door. Gripping his keys so they left indentations in his palm, he stared at the doorknob for a moment. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Here is my attempt at #writephoto, a weekly writing prompt for poetry/flash/short stories hosted by Sue Vincent