• 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.

‘Ow!’

‘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.

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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.

‘Wait!’

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.

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