M T M
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.
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.
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...
Walking along in the hot sunlight, her gaze is beating painfully down onto his rocky brow. The windows are perfect mirrors; endless recurrences of his awkward figure turn and stare at him. Their judgement is cold, unrelenting. They shout, banging their fists; remembering every dark thought, every unfavourable perception; painting him as the picture of inferiority.