Samuel Richter looked at himself in the mirror, his eyes were hollow; he knew Margaret was no longer happy with him. He saw her staring through his lies. The three empty bottles of alcohol and headache medicine cascading from her place on the couch and note signed “Have a nice Life, go jump off of a cliff. Love, Margaret,” on the coffee table gave him a pretty good idea that, she had figured him out.
The face that Samuel was looking at in the mirror wasn’t his, it was a woman named Victoria’s, more confident then Margaret, more outgoing, a woman who sold her love to men that lied to themselves. Samuel wiped off Victoria’s lipstick, rubbed off her blush, undid her hair. At this point she had lost her sex appeal, realer, more vulnerable, out of herself. Samuel opened up a drawer, and inserted what was left of Victoria, and went to bed, Victoria wouldn’t be sleeping with him tonight.
Samuel woke up at six in the evening. He slumped down the stairs and around the corner and was greeted by his unconscious wife on the couch. He walked over to the coffee table, and read the piece of paper atop it. Samuel Chuckled. He looked at Margaret, he reached for her limp hand… and scooted her over and turned on the television.
At Ten PM, Samuel left the couch. He got in the shower, shaved, conditioned, dried off and went to the mirror. He looked at himself, who he thought was himself, who he didn’t want to be. He pulled Victoria out of the drawer, he put on her lipstick, he put on her clothes, he did her hair. He looked in the mirror and Victoria was looking back at him… and it was off to work.