• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 06
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The Woman with the Mirror Cheek

I knew there was something special about you before I had the chance to speak. I would see you on the way to work, me heading north, you venturing south. What struck me was your hair – two lank liquorice curtains seemingly plastered to your face. You possessed an androgynous look and wore men’s flannel shirts and trousers that were three sizes too big.

I admired you. Whoever had employed you were concerned about one thing and one thing only: they wanted real, true, honest workers who weren’t afraid to express themselves.

I had considered following you, walking the same paths that you did, in order to meet the one in charge and ask them if they had any available positions going spare. I needed a change and felt restricted in my too-tight skirt and cardboard-stiff blazer. It was like being back at school.

Except I wouldn’t have been able to pull off your flamboyant yet edgy look, not the way you did, so effortlessly, without a second thought.

A week passed where I didn’t see you; I assumed you’d gone on holiday. There was no-one else on my travels who was remotely interesting and I found myself yearning for your return.


‘Oh...sorry. I didn’t see you.’

I turned and met a pair of olive green eyes level with mine and nearly stopped breathing. Your hair was no longer stuck to your face and I was drawn to your left cheek — my astonished reflection staring back. You quickly realised what had happened and brushed your hair over your mirror cheek.


The Woman with the Mirror Cheek

And then you jerked, almost violently, before melting away into the crowd.

I scanned the crowds for you like crazy after that; I had seen the impossible. I had to find you again. Days turned into weeks and with each passing hour, my heart grew heavy and tired.

Then one spring morning, I spotted you again; your left cheek reflecting a woman in orange who checked her phone, and I laughed. This was incredible. You were incredible. You were a work of art.

I hurried towards you, the words drumming their importance in my head — you needed to know how special you were.

But when I reached the spot you had formerly occupied, I found you so very far away as though you felt me seeking you out and couldn’t wait to get away.


A few people turned and looked at me. You didn’t.

And just as I was about to call again, you turned around and met my eyes, a single dark lens stared back.