Illusion

I stood there, and she stood before me.

I raised my face, she raised hers.

I smiled slowly, deliberately, and she smiled as well.

A mirror ?

And I, that woman, with black glories of hair and the leaping fire all around ?

It must be me.

There are flames in my eyes as well.
I raise my arm.
A long straight brown arm ending in an outstretched finger. To touch the mirror. The fingertips cut through air and brush the cool mirror surface.
A second.
Then it shatters.

Splinters fly.
Shining, sparkling splinters.
Leaving gashes of red that glintin the dancing light.

I look up- at her.
At where she still stands.
Quietly.
Her arms folded gracefully.
Her quiet, understanding face.
No mocking laughter, no damning judgement.

But I hate her now.