You’re So Vain by Autumn Humphrey

You can’t pass a mirror without looking. Your reflection in the glass of other people’s pictures distracts you. You’ve never seen a car in your rear view mirror, absorbed with the sight of your own face. Your boss complains about the amount of time you spend in the restroom, so you place a mirror on your desk, your image always at your fingertips.

There have been times when you were embarrassed by your obsession. The sound of a “tsk, tsk” and rolling eyes has been discomforting on occasion, but you shake it off. Your compulsion is strong, stronger even than the complaints about the mirror over your bed.

Only one person knows the source of your fixation, and she would never talk. Occasionally you visit her. You remove your make-up and look into her face, revealing the two crevices carved into  her skin when she was twelve. She cries. She always cries. Afterwards you wipe away your tears, re-apply the make-up, and continue to check every mirror, so no one will ever know.

© 2011 Autumn Humphrey

Autumn Humphrey’s stories can be found at Every Day Fiction, kill author, The Legendary and other sites. She lives in Long Beach, California where she is an active member of the Long Beach Writer’s Group. http://autumnhumphrey.wordpress.com/

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