Fifth reflection

Erin is having a cup of coffee, her elbows leaning on the counter where the two glasses of red wine from last night remained barely touched. She looks happy only wearing her red shirt. In the back, the room where she spent the night with Susan is brightly bathed in the morning light. The bed is a mess, the large white comforter laying on the ground at the foot of the bed.

Like a whirlwind, barely dressed as well, the small framed blonde is flying around the kitchen making eggs, bacon, pancakes, pulling glasses out of a cupboard, pressing fresh oranges, drinking small sips of coffee out a mug that states: “another shitty present”. She too looks happy.

The image blurs.

Once again, the scenery darkens. The curtains are drawn. There is no one in the living room, no one in the small kitchen, no one leaning on the counter.

Three silhouettes in the bed. The white sheets are stained with dark patches of what looks like blood.

Nothing happens for a long time.

+++

“Erin?”

My eyes leave the mirror and fall on Susan.

“Erin? Some more coffee?”

“No, thanks… I’m good.”

I look back at the mirror, the well-lit room. I reminisce last night and smile at Susan. She smiles back. I might be going crazy. I am not sure I care.

Today is my day off. I spend it walking around the city, somehow carefree, in love…