This and That

Look in the Mirror

Unique opportunity...

Initiation experiment...

Pioneering in the first and last frontier...

Each of the once-exciting phrases raced through my mind and slammed into a mental brick wall with a sickening mental splat. For days I had spent long consecutive hours alone in my cell, investigating every turn this meeting could take. Shock, for sure, from both parties; however unlikely, I also prepared myself for disgust. And, in the worst case, I imagined she might be angry.

But not this. Not inexplicable hatred and anguish and even the betrayal poorly masked on those bright features. After everything that had transpired, I suppose now that it was to be expected. I certainly did not and could not hold all the blame, but then again, I didn't necessarily stand in his way. Why then, you must ask, did I feel pinned against the wall with the rest of those cowards, completely guilty, a committer of atrocities--a murderer? All I can say to appease such a question is that I had moved quite swiftly through this life, so swiftly, in fact, I'd forgotten to take account of my action. How ironic.

There she stood, despite what I felt, staring through me with all the bitterness and resentment of a traumatized child, which I guess was her description. Her tiny, porcelain hands clenched and unclenched rapidly, most likely groping for some sort of weapon. Unnaturally thick chocolate hair drew together in a tight ponytail, the sun glinting off a few wisps of auburn. But I always came back to those differently colored eyes, which I'd only seen in the mirror or other reflective glass, those green and blue orbs which even then held some lingering strands of pain. She used them now to glare accusingly at me, their familiarity almost agonizing. The white shirt, reading SUNNY DAYS DOWN BY THE WAVES, looked out of place in the quickly approaching autumn environment.