House Of Mirrors


I want to live in a house of mirrors so I can see beauty everywhere. I beg daddy to take us to the traveling circus in town. He says “yes.”

I scan the grounds for it, unimpressed by the smooth-talking gambler or the eye in the sky. I’m hungry, but I push it aside. I tune-out my baby brother, who is so amused by anything and everything that we have to stop every five seconds just for him. So selfish.

I feel a stitch of pity for the one-eyed man and the bearded lady, they must dread the house of mirrors. Such wretched existence. I finally skip past my parents, frolicking ahead, confident in rebellion that the more time I spend there the better. I race past a nameless face, bump into random nobodies, and at last find myself face to face. I cry, for I am truly quite ugly.


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