The Man In The Mirror by Jo Barrett

The Man In
    The Mirror

    by

    Jo Barrett

    This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
    The Man In The Mirror

    COPYRIGHT © 2009 by Jo Barrett All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
    Contact Information: [email protected] Cover Art by R.J.Morris The Wild Rose Press
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    Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706
    Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History
    First Faery Rose, 2009
    Published in the United States of America Connor watched from the mirror as she leaned her head back against the front door with a sigh. Her nose appeared red to him, and the freckles that dotted her face seemed pale. Were those tears on her cheeks? What could have caused her to cry?
    She swiped the remnants of moisture from her face. “I have got to get a grip,” she muttered.
    “I don’t love him anymore. It shouldn’t matter that his new wife is having a baby. It doesn’t matter that they live in a big beautiful house just like the one I wanted. It doesn’t matter that he’s even—got—a— dog ,” she cried and ran across the small foyer through the living area to disappear into her bedroom.
    He wished he could move to the mirror there, but knew from experience that it would cost him.
    Choosing mirrors was a sensitive task, one that had taken him nearly fifty years to perfect. If he were to attempt to peer through the glass he knew hung on her bedroom wall, a private mirror, his energy would become so depleted it would be years before he could appear again.
    He must be invited by her.
    And yet the sobs he heard coming from her room tore at his heart, one he’d been certain had died a long time ago.
    An hour later, his jaw ached from clenching his teeth. The floor, if one could call it that, would have had a track worn into it from his pacing if he could affect anything in the world behind the glass. As it was, he could only move from mirror to mirror and watch from within as 1

    Jo Barrett

    the world grew and changed in front of him. If only he could comfort her in some way.
    Her door opened and she appeared wearing a long t-shirt with some faded design on it. Her cheeks were scrubbed clean of face powder and her light brown hair hung about her shoulders in soft waves. Although her eyes and nose were red from crying, he thought her beautiful.
    Tori Fraser was average, to hear her tell it, as she spoke such things to the hall mirror often.
    She would stand in front of him, unaware of his presence, before leaving for work and say, “So, you’re not a ten. You’re not a one either. You’re fine just the way you are.” Then with a firm nod, she would slip out the door and out of his life for the course of the day. But invariably she would return home with a despondent look upon her sweet face.
    The man she’d been engaged to some years ago worked for the same institution she did.
    Although he didn’t work in the same bank branch, he visited there on occasion. And gossip, Connor had learned from his youth, had feet that led straight to the one person it would harm the most.
    She moved into the kitchen where he could not see due to the lack of a mirror there, but he heard the sound of glass clinking against a table, the pop of a cork, and the splash of liquid. A moment later she strolled into view and picked up the remote, pushed a button, and her television came to life. She sat on the sofa, tucked her lovely limbs beneath her, and stared at the moving images on the screen. He could tell her mind was not on the story being portrayed, her gaze seemed distant as she sipped her wine.
    He let out a long