Looking Glass

Rosemary stared into the antique hand mirror, her vivid green eyes searching the deep brown ones of the woman gazing back at her.

‘Why… how do I know you?’ she wondered as she studied the image in the broken glass. She turned the mirror over, once more examining the delicate butterfly pattern on its silver back.

She looked round the dusty store hoping to feel more of the REAL world again.

“I must be tired…” she sighed. “I’m just imagining things.”

But when she turned the mirror’s face once more to hers the woman was still there, watching and waiting.