A Glass Winter
By M T M
The light filling the apartment seemed to bounce off every surface, and rebound five or six times so that the brilliance of it was almost painful...
The bottle didn’t make as much noise as she though it would. Sure enough it shattered on the floor into a thousand shards that would be impossible to find later, but the noise was only just enough to make everyone look up from their drinks.
She had just decided to change when there came a sharp knocking on the door. She looked at herself the in the tall mirror by the door. I’m in control she let her face say. It was good. Good enough to fool him.
There was a thimble on the ground, he wondered for a second how on earth it had gotten there but quickly decided he didn’t care. Something like rock bottom was hitting his shoulders and making them slump. Sweat was getting into his eyes.
Looking down at her phone she see’s six missed calls from her mother. Wiping her dewy eye’s, she stows it back in her purse; swapping it for a hip flask full of vodka. She didn’t feel like flirting for drinks tonight.
There was some sense of malice, as if the mirror knew what he had done, laying bare his betrayal. Like Dorian Grays portrait enumerating his sins.
Heat, oppressive heat. They said it would be 39°C in the city. Those unfortunate enough to be outside hustled from one air-conditioned lobby to another, a constant tirade of disbelief. It cannot be this hot, this is ridiculous.
Whatever has become of her, he thought. Reading her letters didn’t shed much light, the same deathly romantic, self-satisfying musings as when they were together.