The Mirror

I stare at him.

“You look tired,” I say.

He stares back with scorn. The Korean death stare penetrates the glass.

“Tired?” he scoffs, “Weak.”

I glare back and mumble something incoherent.

“What was that?” he snaps.

“Nothing…,” I mumble as I pick up my pen. It is weighed down by obligation now. Sleep seems a memory as the importance of responsibility takes over.

“You don’t even do anything! All you do is criticize and make me mad!” I shout.

“…of course, someone has to motivate you,” he says back.


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4 Responses to The Mirror

  1. aliree73 says:

    Felt this deeply. Wonderful, poignant write

  2. KG says:

    I liked it because of the imagery it brought in my mind. Nice.

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