The Mirror

January 6, 2009
By Anonymous

Picking up the hairdryer he stared into the mirror; the mirror stared back. He turned the dryer on full blast and scrunched up his eyes while attacking his whole head with the hot air. The mirror flicker in triumph of its victory over the staring contest; it always won.

He opened his eyes to find his short hair messy a still slightly damp. Spinning on the stop he looked over his small room for the brush. He walked over to the bed and flung the sheets up in the air, letting them fall neatly back in place. Several things went flying off the bed (including one pissed off cat), but not the brush.

Throwing himself on the floor he checked under the bed. “There you are,” he muttered, extending his thin and slightly muscled arm out to grab the handle. Hopping back up, he ran the brush through his hair while shutting the door and clicking the lock.

He glanced around the room, as if expecting someone to be lurking quietly in a corner. Then walked to the closet and pulled out a long sequined dress. He laid the dark blue dress across the newly made bed. If he squinted his eyes just right, the sequins sparkled like stars in the night sky. With a sudden hit of inspiration, he dashed to the door and unlocked it before sprinting down the hallway to his mother’s room.

Arriving back in his room, he slammed the door behind him and leaned against it out of breath, lacy silver heals in hand. He crossed the room in five short steps then bent slightly at the knees to place the shoes on the ground next to the dress.


He stripped down, then walked to the closet to grab a slip and pulled it down over his head, shortly followed by the dress. Then a long brown haired wig was fitted over his short blonde hair and he squeezed into his mother’s shoes.

He looked into the mirror, examining the affect. The mirror felt that it was not the best time for a staring contest as its user twisted his hips to right and looked sideways over his shoulder.

“Can you help me with----” the girl broke off as she entered the room and caught sight of her younger brother. Her face was a mask of shock as she closed the door behind her back and stood with her knees locked and her mouth slightly a jar.

Terror flooded cold through his veins and he started, “Please don’t tell---”

But he too broke off because his older sister was walking purposefully across the small room, her face set and her jaw tight. She was going to slap him and he knew it. He flinched as her hand came up---

But there was no sting on his cheek, only a soft fingering at his shoulder, and as he glance in the mirror, he saw her gently tucking in the slip’s strap under the one from the dress. He automatically reached up a hand to do the other side and looked through the mirror to pass her a furtive smile.

“So, are, uh, are you okay with this?” he asked timidly.

“Are you kidding?” She beamed up at his reflection. “You know I always wanted a little sister.”

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