HopingForColorInLife

It has been three years since the last mirror I owned was taken down from its wall. It must have been almost seventeen-years old, though it never showed its age. This is probably why I despised it so much. Perhaps if this mirror grew age-spots and if the wooden frames wrinkled and withered away over the years, perhaps then I would have kept it. But all I saw in that mirror was my beauty and tenacity melting away into a scraggly, veined memory of what used to be. In the bathtub, I mused a pathetic thought of calling a man over to coat my windows in anti-reflective film. Fortunately, I was interrupted by a noisy insect buzzing and knocking aga