The Mirror of Me

They only ever bumped into one another when they were alone; she always seemed to find them then. Neither resented their arrangement, just the circumstances of their meeting. When all was quiet, when there was no-one around, they knew she was coming.

Though their time together was almost always fleeting, they knew one another inside out; their histories intertwined, their victories and defeats shared. They were one another’s best friend and confidant and yet, when their paths first crossed, nothing could have been further from the truth.

A quiet train station after a long walk on a hot day; an imperfect meeting place for an imperfect couple. Their first encounter. They hauled their bag aboard and slammed themselves into an apparently empty chair only to see her there, as if waiting for them. Vitriol of the highest order poured from her mouth; beratement and loathing for a stranger she seemed to know intimately. As they listened, they learned. She was right. Her words cut at them, lashing at their very person. She was right.

They grew to fear her but also the silence that summoned her. A moment’s respite was never so; she was relentless until one day. The change wasn’t instant, far from it, but one day, her tactic changed. Her tongue softened, her tone too. Though her words were still hurtful, they also started to heal. Answers to questions they thought unanswerable, solutions to problems they would have never considered; they soon set out to embrace the vacuum, waiting for her to fill it. And she did.

The pair bonded in these silent places; drinks shared and truces brokered. Though their earlier encounters had left them scarred and broken, they were still more than happy to move to the future together. Time passed and the strangers from the train were more akin to twins; their entangled fate mastered, neither was ever alone. As their bond grew, so too did their comfort with one another. They became exactly what the other needed.

She stood there, alone, on the opposite side of the room to them; their gazes locked. As they started to her, she came to them. They met in the middle, neither knowing how to proceed, still staring at each other. Her body was flawless, immaculate, beauty beyond their means but she had chosen them, she had come to them.

Before they could speak, she began. From her lips, the most beautiful poetry danced, silk span from her tongue and into their ears; they tried to draw their eyes from her mouth but found themselves ensnared, rapt by the formation of such prose. The words dug to their core. Affirmations and affectations they had heard before but suddenly now believed, burrowed into their breast; their heart full of her esteem, they tried to return the favour, to thank her but she was gone.

Standing where she had, they only saw themselves. A teardrop ran down their cheek.