Walked past me is a familiar woman; the click of her shoes, her posture, the way her hair was positioned, the coldness written on her face, her left brow raised two millimeter higher than the other—I’m certain to have seen these features before.
The woman went straight to face the mirror with frames antique-styled. She fixed the collar of the leather coat before finally staring at her image. Her eyes are brown and distinct, like delicately painted into shape. Why is she giving off such a great impression in me? I asked myself in awe. She is no celebrity, I’m sure. Not a robot, either. Let alone a product of my daydream for I can clearly tell her perfume—Versace, the pink-bottled one. But even scents can be manipulated by a man’s own mind, I remembered from the book I randomly picked in the library, one may see, hear, feel or smell something but actually don’t. So I observed longer and was convinced she wasn’t made-up when her phone rang, which startled us both (but maybe she didn’t notice anything about that).
She watched the phone ring and I can’t conclude any reason why because her face remained without emotion. It was after three missed calls when she muted the phone. Did the caller annoy her or it was me staying near like a foolish spy? Thinking I’m to be blamed, I prepared myself to leave. I was about to make a step when I heard her heave a sigh (which, of course, made me curious about her once again). Maybe she’d need my help anytime soon, I worriedly thought, just to convince myself to stay longer.
A series of inhaling deep and shaking shoulders followed that heavy sigh. That’s the moment I glued my feet on the floor. Through the mirror, her tears were visibly building up by the corner of her eyes like waves arranging themselves to sweep the shore. Her lips began to curve downwards while her fingers were fighting themselves not to form a fist. Maybe she had a breakup, maybe she’s mad at someone, maybe she’s only practicing for an audition, maybe she’s totally depressed, I brainstormed with myself. I wanted to ask her that very minute, yet like a swift gust of wind, no, even faster than the blink of an eye—I saw her shaking her head while letting out a small silly laugh. I would’ve probably shouted at her “idiot” if it was some other person, but with her, I felt a bit proud instead and amused.
The woman gave a kind smirk at herself before turning back from the mirror. She stopped near me and smiled as she placed her hand on my shoulder: see how strong you’ve become, little bear? Know your worth and stand with it, that’s all you have to learn. Next thing I knew, I was left alone in the bathroom halls enswathed with that Versace perfume.
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