Looking Glass

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I followed the other girls to the adjacent room. In a cluster, they shoved through the narrow dooway while I lingered behind, wondering where exactly they were going or what, exactly, they were planning to do. After a moment of deliberation, I deemed it safe to enter the space, and gingerly placed one foot through the door.
A frigid tile floor shocked me. I silently pleaded for thicker socks, recalling the fleece pair I had nearly reached for that morning… The sudden flick of a light switch jolted me out of my thoughts. As my pupils adjusted to the strained brightness, I spotted the culprit: a row of six cylindrical lights mounted to the ceiling, glaring down onto the faces of the girls, each its own sun illuminating a vacant sky and blinding anyone audacious enough to peer upward. Benneath the lights, a flat stretch of glass hovered against a beige wall. What was the purpose of that? The crowd of girls congregated in front of this strange decoration, staring at it intently. Then grimaces crept onto their once-confident faces as they began adjusting their clothes and primping their hair: inventors tinkering with bits of old clutter. I decided to step up next to the girls for a closer view of this enchanting glass. When about two feet separated me from the surface of the object, I lifted my head, gazed forward-- and saw staring back at me a person who I’d never seen before.






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