Cracks

Sandra’s grandfather told her not to stand in front of the broken mirror.

“That’s what did your grandma in,” he said. “I’d smash it proper, if I dared.”

She didn’t understand what he meant. That Grandma was vain? Yes, she was, but it wasn’t her fault. That was society, expectations. And you can’t get killed by vanity.

So she stood, and looked, in defiance of him.

Her cracked reflection stared back, lips trembling as if desperate, pleading to be released. Eyes darting to look off-pane, when Sandra’s didn’t move.

Tentatively, she touched the glass.

It was broken from the inside.