The Image

She stood there, in front of the mirror. Her hair, straight, smooth and shiny with a few plaits falling on the side cheek. The image of her face showing up, not the real her, as if she was showing the world a reflection of her own self, the self that was glorious, famed and desirable. The eyes sparkled in the flawless glowing face of her virtualization, as if shying away from her own beautiful realization; the smile, subtle and meek, curved around a pair of luscious leaves, red and rosy, dripping affection for her very reflection, realizing the worldly fact that this beautiful self of her is no other than herself, amazed at her own beautiful countenance, her skin, clad in purple, flashing like one of those personalities featured on page three. She put her hand on the mirror, meeting that of her other side, as if wanting to touch that distant self, to make her feel closer, more imminent, asking her to be on her side forever and never separate from her again.