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Maja stood at the vanity like it was a small dock pushed out into the afternoon. The mirror was oval and polite and told the truth without commentary. That was its best quality. Her hair was straight and cut short, the way a sentence ends when it knows it has said enough. She liked that. Behind her, the stone buildings waited the way old animals do, calm and unimpressed. They had seen worse hairstyles. They had seen wars. The bottles on the vanity were lined up like clear thoughts that had finally decided to behave. She didn’t touch them. Today wasn’t about smelling like something else. In the mirror, her face arrived on time. It looked capable of keeping an appointment with itself. That seemed important. The arches in the background repeated, which made her think of how life sometimes taps you on the shoulder again just to be sure you heard it the first time. She nodded slightly, so the mirror would know she understood. Maja realized the mirror wasn’t copying her. It was holding her place. Like a bookmark in a long, strange book made of stone and weather and women who learned, eventually, to stand where they were.
Maja stood at the vanity like it was a small dock pushed out into the afternoon.
The mirror was oval and polite and told the truth without commentary.
That was its best quality.
Her hair was straight and cut short, the way a sentence ends when it knows it has said enough.
She liked that.
Behind her, the stone buildings waited the way old animals do, calm and unimpressed.
They had seen worse hairstyles.
They had seen wars.
The bottles on the vanity were lined up like clear thoughts that had finally decided to behave.
She didn’t touch them.
Today wasn’t about smelling like something else.
In the mirror, her face arrived on time.
It looked capable of keeping an appointment with itself.
That seemed important.
The arches in the background repeated, which made her think of how life sometimes taps you on the shoulder again just to be sure you heard it the first time.
She nodded slightly, so the mirror would know she understood.
Maja realized the mirror wasn’t copying her.
It was holding her place.
Like a bookmark in a long, strange book made of stone and weather and women who learned, eventually, to stand where they were.
