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Reflection

The face in the puddle haunted me. I was kneeling on my knees, staring into the ever-growing puddle. Rain pelted down from the sky, hitting me on the head. I was soon drenched, but I continued to look on. What had happened to me? I silently asked myself as I analyzed this reflection. I had changed mentally and physically.

Physically, I looked older. I had grown and matured some, but with age comes stress and responsibility. And with maturity and responsibility comes taking care of those you love.

The girl in the reflection taunted me. Her face was long, sallow. She smiled. My once cute dimples looked unhealthy and forced with her tight smile. Her eyes were bleak. The once brilliant brown eyes were ragged. They had seen too many mistakes-mistakes which only a certain few learned from.

I knew what those mistakes were--I was the one who always had to fix them, catch them when they fell. I was like a guardian. Weren't guardian angels supposed to be healthy and beautiful? This girl looked tired.

Her dark brown hair was matted to her head, drenched with pouring rain. I lifted my hands, and ran my fingers through my wet hair. The girl in the puddle did the same. I imagined the shiny brown locks of hair between my fingers. I imagined the light flush of my cheeks when I smiled, the sparkle in my eye when I was happy.

I imagined a time when recklessness and happiness did not go hand in hand, a time when responsibility was common, not rare.

The girl in the puddle laughed. Her friends were standing behind her, alcohol in hands, boys drooling over them. They ushered her over, and she went, like a sick little puppy on its leash. They handed her a beer and a boy.

I watched the scene play out. I blinked a few times, hoping it would go away. It didn't. I was up close with the girl again, but this time, she looked worse. Her face was pale, her nerves were loose. She smiled lazily and then her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and her twisted grin spread across her face.

I screamed. I jumped up to my feet and stomped in the puddle. That girl was gone forever, no more than a trick of light, a mere puddle, an odd twist of the imagination.





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