Eye Of The Beholder
A woman poses for an artist.
Jess had stopped looking in mirrors sometime in her thirties. It wasn't dramatic — no shattered glass, no tearful vow. Once gray Tuesday, she'd just noticed, catching her reflection in the hallway mirror before she could look away in time, that same quick private wince she'd trained herself to feel and swallow in the same breath — and decided that avoiding mirrors was simply how things would be now. To not see her short,...
