Which, after all, is the more real, the one that mirrors itself or the mirror that it uses — Carl Jung
As it lay in self-inflicted shards, trod upon by oblivious boots, ground down to dust, the mirror reflected upon the admiring glances and endearments it had received in its long lifetime: I love you I hate you you gorgeous creature you’re the man you still look damn good.
One can only take so many lies.
This microfiction piece appeared in Camroc Press Review in 2009.
Photo: Grandma’s pond – Midland, Michigan, USA – October 2012