My Reflection strains against the television’s darkness. Unfocused vision formulates flecks of light, jittering beside the right corner and in the center I appear. Polka dots distinguish themselves as eye-sockets, flesh tones arrange dollops of cream cheeks to break the quasi shadows, visible on screen and nowhere else. In the background another face appears. Then colors disrupt the moment, hijacking the screen, where the President assures the public War will end in victory.
The bus’s glass collects my expressions, displays them like a flipbook. Around the 8th window pane, our eyes meet. Her face appears before my reflection and it’s as if we’re wearing each other’s smile. We made a promise that we’ll meet soon. Her departure is an assurance that it’ll happen.
A blank stare bisects its focus between a sand-castle and the waves that aided in building the structure. High tide deposits water beneath the royal quarters, from above the King watches bits of his bedroom retreat with the current.
Skyscrapers occupy habitable inches off the coastline. Inside the office of the 11th floor two cubicle neighbors discuss why they deserve to be closer to an AC vent, reasoning the cold keeps them motivated. As the conversation breaks to silence, a seagull mistakes the 11th floor window for the sky. Its face-plant into the glass resounds a thud throughout the cubicle aisles. The bird plummets and the staff contemplates how they’d be happier with access to the thermostat, before getting back to work.
^Upside down Right side uP^
I lift up a glass bottle from the picnic table. Condensation lathers my already sweaty palm. I don’t hold it tight enough. Glass specks adorn the dirt. I pivot and cover them with my shadow. I step away and the darkness travels with me. What’s left on the ground proceeds to glitter in the sun.