Eyes lock in on eyes that stare back with equal intensity, perfectly mirrored.
She let out a shuddering breath, feeling the air stutter just the slightest as it left her. She leaned heavily on her hands, braced to either side of her on the bathroom sink for support, and just stared. Stared at the mirror in front of her, stared at the eyes, all so familiar and yet not, that stared back.
Gaze never once wavering, she smiled; lips pulling at the edges, teeth revealed, cheekbones raised high, eyes crinkling just that much at the edges.
Well, let it never be said that she didn't do a fantastic parody of a smile. No one ever noticed in any case. The performance delivered, paired with stupid, self-deprecating statements, and wry humor, was enough of a sign to tell the world that everything was fine, to simply carry-on as per normal. It was enough, but it was not yet perfect. No, someone had almost called her out. Almost.
"Hey, you alright today?"
"Peachy, why?"
"Something's just off. You seem rather upset about things lately."
"You refer to my rather sullen disposition then? The curse of being surrounded by dimwits I'd say."
"No, really. You know you can always talk right?"
"Of course I can talk, have you ever known me to shut up?"
A quick diversion after that, a change of topic. Still...
How?
Everything was in place, all the right muscles pulled taught and relaxed into the image of joy, yet there was something off about it. Something she couldn't quite place.
Leaning in, she studied the picture she made. Oh. There it was.
Joy danced across her features, laughs looking ready to burst forth from lips, but somehow, for some reason, it didn't quite reach her eyes.
Two dark pools of dead stared out of the face of joy, a patch barren of life in a wild and thriving forest.
Sighing again, she let the mask fall (for was it not what that had become in the recent days, little more than a mask to evade annoying and intrusive questions?), eyes flitting first downwards and the back up again to look at the now stoic face.
Stoic was better.
Her eyes matched stoic.
Stoic was easier.
Stoic invited questions. Made people ask. She didn't like questions. She didn't like to be asked. Too touchy, too raw, too painful. Easier behind glass walls of false happiness and pretend nonchalance, easier packed into boxes that never saw the light of day, easier to slip into the skin of a carefree person.
Her eyes slid shut and she swallowed the lump that had begun to form in her throat. No. Stop. Weakness. No. Arrow. Focus. Now.
Thoughts were steeled and focused and sharpened, memories of a time less... effortful pulled from shelves and forged together to form a single bright spark. She cradled that spark gently, as if it were a precious, fragile relic prone to breaking at any moment.
Eyes flying open, she pulled forth her mask again, settling muscles and features into a well practiced and orchestrated play. Then she called forth the spark, forcing it into her expression as well.
There. Now her character was perfect.
She smiled at her visage, reflected exactly in the mirror before her.
In the mirror, twinkling eyes, filled with mirth, smiled back.
me 
