Mirror Noise By Kathryn Michael McMahon

Inside her cave with lilac walls live a Wi-Fi connection, throw pillows, and a full-length mirror.

Within the mirror thrive stretchmarks and all the children she never had. Three. Two girls and a boy with the blackest eyes she’s never seen.

Into her cave stalks a hammer. The hammer likes hanging pictures . . . and smashing things.

The hammer aches to smash the mirror, but cannot. Inside, pliers sigh with relief.

© 2015 Kathryn Michael McMahon

Kathryn Michael McMahon writes a variety of literary and speculative fiction. Her writing has appeared in The Subtopian and is forthcoming from A cappella Zoo’s queer issue this autumn. She is an American raised abroad and has found a home in Vietnam with her British wife. She has a phobia of stuffed animals, which being a preschool teacher has failed to cure.

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