The museum was filled with mirrors of different sizes fitted inside elaborate, golden frames mounted on the walls. The museum-goers gazed at their reflections in awe. Glancing at the writing on the wall, they esteemed themselves highly as they read the glowing, scholarly descriptions. One inscription included the following note: This remains a work of genius without equal.
Most gasped when they made the association between the image in the polished mirror and the summation. Some felt the praise was not enough.
Belaynesh looked closely at her curly coiffure - not a hair was out of place. Halima adjusted her elegant, flowing hijab that snuggly framed her face and was draped over her shoulders. They clutched their purses. They were friends and competitors. Competition was a constant in this house of mirrors where people examined themselves and vainly rose in rank in their mental estimation. Superiority was not always spoken, but felt. Each person became the hero in a grand epic, searching for meaning and significance.
In the late afternoon, as the sun set, a child ran into the hall of mirrors with a sling and a stone. He aimed for the mirror in front of the defenseless Belaynesh and Halima. The glass shattered when the stone struck. The two friends, who until that moment were pretty enough for each other, stepped back in alarm. Their hands covered their gaping mouths.
The child laughed the loudest laugh. He defeated the shallow young women bent on self-adoration. The spell was broken. They were not friends. Their blood raced and coursed through their veins, which ran like rivers underneath their skin. The museum’s indoor garden became more appealing. As the museum’s custodial staff removed the cracked mirror from the wall, everyone whispered. It was time to leave the land of empty self-reflection and to watch the flowers grow.
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