The nightmare was the same.
Every night.
Every time she closed her eyes the nightmare played out.
The bathroom.
Every moment.
Pink tiles.
Every second.
Golden yellow grouting.
All the same.
The pink glowed both hot and cold, like cooling magma.
It never changed.
The mirror….
It never, ever changed.
She was always drawn to that mirror.
It was all so predictable.
As she approached the mirror, the dream pulled back from her point of view to an outsider’s point of view. She could see herself approach the mirror.
It never changed.
She stopped in front of the mirror. Her hair shielded her face.
It always stayed the same.
She couldn’t see her face.
Every single night.
Not in profile.
Every time she slept.
Not straight on.
Every time she closed her eyes.
And not in the mirror.
The nightmare was always there.
Her reflection….
It was always there.
Her reflection was not there.
It always waited so patiently for her to fall asleep.
The mirror reflected the bathroom’s hot and cold pink tiles and the golden yellow grouting.
It would always be there.
There were no other reflections in the mirror.
It would always be the same.
She wasn’t there.
cosistories 