The Scar

 

The girl looking at me tilts her head slightly, bright blue eyes scrutinizing me. She has cropped blonde hair that’s been carefully manipulated to create a sea of short spikes, contrasting nicely against the smoothness of her facial features.

This face is unfamiliar. It makes me cringe slightly looking at it, the perfection of it… it seems unnatural. The girls face flinches a little under my gaze so I force myself to lower my now hostile eyes, for just a second.

When I look back up, she’s still there. Her gaze meets mine and I wonder about my reaction to her. Did my accident change me that much? Am I really that internally scarred? The girl shudders as if she knew my thoughts.

She stands about 5’7”, though she is wearing heels. Heels that look good with her long, figurative legs currently adorned with tight fitting jeans. It wasn’t her genes that made her this perfect, I smile to myself at the pun. The girl smiles back.

I flinch away from that smile before I can stop myself and my vision fills with tears.

I know that smile.

I turn, walk away from the mirror.

At least something hasn’t changed.

The End

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