She looked again. The figure staring back at her from the mirror was taller and dressed in unfamiliar clothes. The hair were black and shorter. Makeup in Smokey eyes and bright red lipstick was totally not her style. But the green eyes and a small birth mark on the left cheek was totally hers. Looking in the mirror we expected to see ourselves nit a stranger. Maybe fix matter. Hair or wipe off chocolate smudge from the bottom lip. But not to see someone familiar and firing the sand time. Who is she? Could it be her in 10, 15, 20 years?
Trina clicked “pay now” and leaned back in her chair. She was done. The payment will be taken from her credit card on file. No need to complete the transaction by typing all the information. Don’t look down. Just don’t. It was so cruel of this website to post below, “People who bough this item also buy this…”. Why? Trina knew why. Marketing. Duh. Her question was more to herself, “Why she cannot stop looking down the page of what other people bought as a bundle and immediately want it too?” What is wrong with her? Didn’t she have all she need and want already? Wasn’t she least favorite customer on the delivery man route? Did she go over the spending limit of her credit card? Did she really need all that junk in unopened boxes invading her house like a plague? Her hand lingered on the mouse a second longer. Just one pick on that pink toaster…
I saw what you did last night and I’ve told everyone. The night was too dark to see all the detail but I still recognize that blue jacket and your blonde matted hair. You didn’t see me because I was hiding behind the corner of the Matthewsons house. You were too nervous and too hasty dragging that body-like-shaped black bag to your basement. The heavy load left long imprints on the wet yellow grass. The moon hid behind the clouds. I wish I came out to ask you what is going on but I was afraid I will end up like that body in the bag. Was it really a body or a rolled carpet you brought back from the dry cleaning?
I hate her. I absolutely hate her. How could she do that to me? Haven’t I done enough? Bringing her fresh fruit, sharing my office supplies, teaching her all the little tricks about her position. And that’s his she paid me back - running away crying at my compliment about her gorgeous makeup? Did I touch something deeper than I intended? Was it make price or sense of insecurity? Did I say it too loud that everyone could hear? Was it a stupid mascara in her eye? What was it? I don’t know!!! I’m so mad that she left me like that without explanation running away in tears like I was a monster. Gosh, I wished I knew what happened. Should I call her and ask?
