I watch my dim reflection in the window shift continuously, wrinkles blinking in and out around my eyes. Laugh lines longer than my own but look familiar. Gray speckles my dark hair like children’s sparklers. It changes the fastest along a thin crack jutting from the top corner.
The first splatter of the night’s rain trickles against the glass, a fat drop breaking my changing reflection. Only my face remains.
“Taylor,” my father calls, his voice tired.
I should support him, but I can’t tear myself away from the window. Nor do I want to stare at the coffin behind me, either. To face the forever line of people offering condolences or just here out of morbid curiosity. Even I remember my childhood interest in what a dead body looked like. But this time, I don’t want to know what my mom looks like, all stiff with fake color skin to look “almost” normal.
I want her memories intact. Full of life.
The rain picks up, clattering against the window. My reflection quivers, and each drop changes a new part of my face. The laugh lines are back. My eyes flicker a familiar color. Lips blink mom’s favorite lipstick color.
Soon it isn’t even my face anymore.
It’s my mother’s.
Blood pounds in my ears. She’s there, smiling at me, crying with me. I start to reach out, but a suited woman slashes velvet curtains closed, mumbling apologies.
“Something’s not quite right about the window, Ma’am. Pay it no mind.”
For more enchanting Wednesday Words by other authors, check out the official Wednesday Words page!